

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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MODERN AMERICAN 
ORATORY 

SEVEN REPRESENTATIVE ORATIONS 



EDITED WITH NOTES AND AN ESSAY ON 
THE THEORY OF ORATORY 



BY 



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RALPH CURTIS RINGWALT 




NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 









Copyright, 1898, 

BY 
HENRY HOLT & CO. 







2nd COPY, 
1898. 



THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, 
RAHWAY, N. J. 



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PREFACE. 

The purpose of this volume is to present concisely 
the general principles underlying the theory of ora- 
tory, and to illustrate these principles by orations 
drawn from the work of the most prominent public 
speakers in the United States in the past thirty years. 

In choosing the orations a threefold object has been 
kept in view. The aim has been to select: (i) such 
speeches as were interesting, valuable, and notable 
productions in themselves; (2) those which were typi- 
cal of the kind of oratory they are intended to repre- 
sent; and (3) those which were representative of the 
best work of the men who delivered them. Each 
oration is printed without any abridgment. 

The book is intended to serve as a manual for stu- 
dents of oratory, and to furnish precept and illustra- 
tive matter for classes in argumentation and oral 
discussion. 

R. C. R. 
Columbia University, May 4, 1898. 



CONTENTS. 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 
I. 



I. What Oratory Is, . 
II. The Divisions of Oratory, .... 

III. Deliberative Oratory, ..... 

IV. Forensic Oratory, 

V. Demonstrative Oratory, .... 

The Eulogy, 

The Commemorative Oration, . 

The Platform Oration, .... 

The After-dinner Address, 

VI. Pulpit Oratory, .43 



page 

3 

7 

9 

16 

24 

27 

30 

35 

40 



II. 

VII. The Divisions of the Oration, 

VIII. Introduction, 

IX. Narration, 

X. Partition, 

XI. Discussion, 

XII. Conclusion, 

XIII. The Preparation of Speeches, 



53 
55 
60 
66 
75 
83 
85 



VI CONTENTS. 

ORATIONS. 

PAGE 

Deliberative Oratory. 

Carl Schurz: General Amnesty, 93 

Forensic Oratory. 

Jeremiah S. Black: The Right to Trial by Jury— 
Ex-Parte Milligan, 131 

Demonstrative Oratory. 

The Eulogy— Wendell Phillips: Daniel O'Connell, . 182 

The Commemorative Oration — Chauncey M. Depew: 
The One Hundredth Anniversary of the Inaugura- 
tion of President Washington, .... 220 

The Platform Oration— George William Curtis: The 
Leadership of Educated Men, . . . .256 

The After-dinner Address — Henry W. Grady: The 
New South, 278 

Pulpit Oratory. 

Henry Ward Beecher: The Sepulcher in the Garden, 292 

Notes, 313 

Bibliography of Orators and Oratory, . . .331 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 



I. 

I. WHAT ORATORY IS. 

If we turn to those treatises on oratory which are 
most useful for the student to-day, — the works of Aris- 
totle, Cicero, and Quintilian, among the ancients, Dr. 
Blair in England, and John Quincy Adams in this 
country, — we have no little difficulty in finding an ap- 
propriate definition with which to begin our study. 
Aristotle says that oratory (or rhetoric, as the whole 
science of written and spoken discourse was denomi- 
nated by the Greeks) is " the faculty of finding all the 
means of persuasion on any subject." Cicero, who is 
followed by Dr. Blair, defines it as the " art of persua- 
sion"; while Quintilian and John Quincy Adams 
agree in calling it the " art of speaking well." No 
one of these definitions is, however, wholly apposite 
for our purposes to-day. That of Aristotle, since it 
has to do with but one branch of the subject, what the 
rhetoricians called invention, the collection of argu- 
ments, may be rejected at once. But the other two, 
one or the other of which has been adopted by perhaps 
a majority of writers, call for more comment. 

It is, indeed, true that the end of much oratory is 
persuasion. This is the object of nearly all speeches 



4 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

delivered in assemblies, in legislatures, or in courts of 
law, where the purpose of the speaker is to persuade 
his hearers to perform a certain act, to vote in 
a certain way, or to render a certain decision. 
But it is likewise true that there is a very large 
division of oratory in which no such purpose 
can be discerned. In such a category should be 
placed the eulogies spoken after the deaths of great 
men; the orations commemorating the anniversaries 
of important events; addresses delivered at the dedica- 
tion of monuments and buildings; and, finally, the 
mass of after-dinner speeches. Rarely in any of these 
instances is the object of the speaker, except most in- 
directly, that of persuasion; and thus the definition 
which regards all oratory as the art of persuasion, 
since it excludes so great a class, is inadequate. For 
other reasons, the remaining definition is open to 
quite as much objection. To define oratory as the art 
of speaking well, is, in the first place, extremely un- 
scientific, for no standards are given upon which judg- 
ment may be based. The question at once arises, 
what are the criteria of good speaking? Further- 
more, the definition is bad because it fails to discrimi- 
nate between such speeches as all would agree to be a 
part of oratory, and those which, however clear and 
logical and effective, would with no less certainty be 
denied such a place. To put the point differently, the 
definition does not distinguish between oratory which 
admittedly is such, and public speaking in general. 
This is a distinction which is fundamental. 

We are therefore compelled to seek a definition else- 
where. To this end let it be asked, What is the differ- 
ence between a speech delivered in an assembly, out- 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 5 

lining a financial scheme, and one in the same place 
advocating war, or the annexation of territory ; between 
an argument spoken before a single judge on a ques- 
tion of jurisdiction, and one before a jury in behalf of 
a man indicted for murder? The answer is, of course, 
superficially, that in one case the speech is cold and 
rigid, like a demonstration in mathematics; in the 
other it is intense, full of vigor and of passion. More 
accurately, too, is it not that one speech is addressed 
to reason and to the intellect, while the other, although 
it may touch these faculties as well, appeals primarily 
to the emotions? And herein it may be believed, is the 
distinguishing characteristic of oratory; that which 
raises it above and divides it from public speaking in 
general; namely, the appeal to the emotions. No 
matter how clear, logical, or effective, speaking may 
be, so long as it appeals to the intellect only, it re- 
mains public speaking; when, however, the emotions 
are touched — love, joy, hate, ambition, revenge — then 
speaking becomes oratory. Nothing, moreover, — no 
phrase, paragraph, or speech, — is In itself eloquent; it 
is eloquent only as it affects the audience to which it 
is addressed. In the present writer's opinion these are 
the simplest and most fundamental ideas that can be 
stated in regard to this subject. And the suggestion 
is therefore hazarded that oratory may be defined, not 
inadequately, as that form of public speaking which 
appeals powerfully to the emotions of the hearer. 

In connection with this definition, one or two sub- 
sidiary points of some practical value may be noted. 
The first of these is that the test of oratory, since it 
depends entirely on the effect produced in the minds 
of the audience, is a quantity of exceeding variable- 



O THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

ness and uncertainty. Because of differences in taste, 
in experience, in environment, what to one mind is 
eloquent, to another may be vapid, or possibly unin- 
telligible. A speech reviewing a military campaign 
may be the height of oratory to soldiers who have 
shared its victories and borne its defeats; to a civilian 
of another land, disassociated from the facts, the 
same speech may seem trite and uninteresting. The 
famous oath of Demosthenes in which he referred 
to the great victories gained at Marathon, Salamis, 
Platsese, and Artimisium, was doubtless most moving 
to a Greek, when it was spoken; but to-day, to the 
average man, it conveys very little meaning. In- 
stances of the kind might be multiplied well-nigh 
without limit. The point, however, is probably clear 
enough: that oratory is largely contingent on the 
character and condition of the minds of the hearers, 
and for this reason no absolute standards in regard to 
it can reasonably be laid down. 

Another point of considerable importance, espe- 
cially with reference to such a volume as the present, 
is that no oration can be estimated or judged finally 
from any other aspect than that of a hearer. Oratory 
(the true object of which is to produce an effect at the 
time of delivery) is composed of two elements, matter 
and manner; and for the purposes of ultimate criticism 
these two are inseparably connected. The much- 
quoted remark of Charles James Fox, when he was 
told that a speech read well, " Then it must have been 
a bad speech," is as far from the truth as the popular 
estimate which ranks Edmund Burke among the 
world's great orators. A speech which reads well was 
not necessarily ineffective when spoken; no more does 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 7 

the delivery of essays of permanent literary value en- 
title one to be called a great orator. This fact, obvi- 
ous enough in itself, is forgotten when attempts are 
made to classify orators definitely on the basis of their 
printed works, and when each year at oratorical con- 
tests, two sets of judges are appointed, one to estimate 
the manner of delivery, the other the literary value of 
the compositions. Ideally, the method of studying ora- 
tory is to hear an oration delivered; then, when it 
appears in print, to examine its woof and texture criti- 
cally, to observe how the results were produced. 
Clearly, however, because of the few speeches we 
hear worthy of such regard, this method of study is 
rarely possible. But its peculiarly good results will 
not be wholly denied if the student supplements his 
reading with the frequent hearing of spoken dis- 
courses of all sorts, and if he will remember that any 
appreciation based on printed words alone is likely to 
fall somewhat short of the truth. 



II. THE DIVISIONS OF ORATORY. 

We have considered what oratory is and how, by 
its appeal to the emotions, it differs from public speak- 
ing in general ; we have seen how this appeal depends 
for its effectiveness largely upon the state of mind of 
those who compose an audience; and finally we saw 
from what standpoint — that of the hearer — any oration 
ought ideally to be judged. We can now advance a 
step, and turn to the broad divisions into which ora- 
tions have been classified. Although variously named 
by different writers, these divisions — a single addition 



8 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

excepted — have always been intrinsically the same: 
they have been based on one of two points of view, 
either upon the attitude of an audience toward a 
speech, or upon the purpose of the speaker, and usu- 
ally upon the former. For example, Aristotle, who 
laid the foundation of the oratorical art so deeply that 
those who have followed have done little more than 
amplify his ideas, finds three attitudes in an audience, 
and upon these he bases his divisions of oratory. He 
says that audiences are either judges of things lying in 
the past, as are members of judicial tribunals; or 
judges of things lying in the future, as are members of 
assemblies and deliberative bodies; or critics, as are 
those who estimate only the ability of a speaker or the 
power and charm of a speech. Then, from this analy- 
sis, he draws the conclusion that there can be but 
three kinds of speeches — judicial, deliberative, and 
epideictic, the oration of display. To this division, 
the birth of Christianity, and the part played in the 
spreading of its doctrine by spoken discourse, has 
added a new, a fourth type of oratory; but with this 
exception, Aristotle's classification is as valuable to- 
day as it was two thousand years ago. We may 
therefore adopt it, making the addition which has 
just been suggested, and changing a little, although 
somewhat arbitrarily, the nomenclature. For judicial, 
a word which is now open to several significations, 
the term forensic, designating more univocally the ora- 
tory of the bar, may be substituted ; and in place of epi- 
deictic, the word demonstrative, which was adopted by 
Roman rhetoricians, and since them almost universally 
by other writers, is probably better. We shall then 
have four great divisions of oratory, as follows: (i) 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 9 

deliberative, the oratory of the assembly; (2) forensic, 
the oratory of the bar; (3) demonstrative (also called 
occasional), the oratory of display; and (4) pulpit, the 
oratory of the Christian Church. Each of these must 
be considered separately. 

III. DELIBERATIVE ORATORY. 

Although deliberative oratory has been defined as 
the oratory of the assembly, the inference must not be 
drawn that it is restricted in scope to speeches before 
legislative assemblies ; with the debates of such bodies 
it is, indeed, most commonly associated, but its actual 
scope is by no means so limited. Any speech be- 
fore a number of people who listen as judges, where 
the object of the speaker is to induce his hearers to 
accept or reject a given policy for the future, may be 
called a deliberative speech. Thus to this class be- 
long not only most congressional efforts, but speeches 
in conventions, those on the hustings, those in pub- 
lic meetings of many sorts, as well as those before 
synods and conferences. When a member of a board 
of directors presents to his colleagues ideas concern- 
ing a business plan, his remarks also fall under this 
category. Evidently, then, the division of oratory 
before us is much broader th°n might seem from the 
first definition; it is, in fact, as extensive as is the 
range of topics which men may be called to deliberate 
upon. 

Those who are fond of ascertaining the period when 
arts have first been practiced, have an interesting 
though not wholly profitable subject in tracing the be- 
ginnings of deliberative oratory. Although perhaps 



io THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

not coeval with the faculty of speech, it is certainly 
very old. Sedulous inquirers point to the harangues 
in the Bible, and to the stormy councils which enliven 
many pages of Homer as the first examples of deliber- 
ative speech. But these examples, whatever their anti- 
quarian interest, have little value for the student. Not 
much more regard can be paid to the speeches which 
the early historians, particularly Herodotus, but Thu- 
cydides as well, put into the mouths of some of their 
characters. The real beginning of deliberative ora- 
tory had better be placed somewhere in the first years 
of the fifth century before Christ; the date of Antiphon, 
who was born in 480, is a convenient starting place. 
About 150 years after Antiphon was born, Demosthe- 
nes, with whom Greek oratory, and possibly the de- 
liberative oratory of all time, reached its acme, died; 
and thenceforth with the victories of Philip of Mace- 
don and the decay of liberty and virtue, oratory, ex- 
cept intermittently, ceased to be a vital force in Greece. 
In Rome deliberative oratory also had a splendid 
record; but, as if following too closely the history as 
well as the artistic inspiration of Greece, it culminated 
in a single great name, Cicero, and then fell into less 
worthy forms. During the Dark Ages there was lit- 
tle chance for any kind of oratory whatsoever. But 
when the results of the Reformation began to be felt, 
public speech once more became a necessity. The 
men who laid the foundations of English political lib- 
erty — Eliot, Pym, Cromwell— were also the first Eng- 
lish political orators, the first of a line the life of which 
has not yet expired. In our own country deliberative 
oratory has had a record of singular power and serv- 
ice. It lighted the fires which burned into the Revo- 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. II 

lution. The Constitution is its product. And it 
refined the wisdom that solved the great problems of 
the first half century of our history. No single influ- 
ence has been more powerful in shaping our destiny 
as a nation. 

The pre-eminence which has usually been conceded 
to deliberative oratory may be ascribed chiefly to three 
causes: the comprehensiveness of its purpose, the 
subjects with which it deals, and the character of the 
audiences to which it is addressed. A few words will 
make these reasons clear. Forensic oratory is con- 
cerned primarily with the rights of individuals, rarely 
with the rights of the many; sermons are likewise 
directed to individuals, to each member of a congrega- 
tion, rather than to a congregation as a whole; demon- 
strative oratory has no especial purpose, except to 
gratify the senses. But deliberative oratory, on the 
other hand, has to do with the individual only as one of 
a larger community. It is concerned not with what has 
interest and importance for the single person, but with 
what affects a body of people, a state, or a nation; 
and thus it is exceptional in the breadth of its pur- 
pose. Furthermore, the subjects with which deliber- 
ative oratory has to do are more vital than those 
touched by any other form of public speaking, that of 
the pulpit alone excepted. These subjects embrace 
much that pertains directly to the physical and 
spiritual welfare and happiness of a people; to their 
larger affairs with other nations; and, not infrequently, 
to questions of life and liberty. Finally, deliberative 
oratory has in the past been addressed to audiences, 
the forums and senates of the ancient world, the parlia- 
ments and legislatures of the modern, which, taken as 



12 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

a whole, have probably combined intelligence and 
mental acumen with emotional characteristics, as 
have no other bodies which speakers have faced. 

We must, however, hasten to admit that delibera- 
tive oratory, particularly of the parliamentary kind, is 
now on the decline. The great oration has become an 
unusual episode in our Senate and House of Repre- 
sentatives, and it is fast becoming unusual in the Eng- 
lish House of Commons. This decline is scarcely due, 
as is sometimes said, to a lack of great orators or to 
the fact that oratory has fallen into disrepute ; it is due 
more probably to the change that has come over the 
legislative bodies themselves. The time which for- 
merly was occupied by great speakers in giving a 
masterful presentation of a question is now spent in 
committee rooms or in committees of the whole, 
where, in an hour, a dozen men may state their po- 
sition on a question and their reasons for voting as 
they do. So large have legislative bodies become, 
and so many and varied are the subjects brought be- 
fore them, that all business cannot be considered by 
a whole house; only that which is of prime importance 
can have such consideration. The remainder of the 
work, the sifting process, must take place before 
smaller bodies, where the opportunity of the orator is 
very slight. The change is also due to some extent, 
perhaps, to the kind of subjects that now occupy legis- 
latures. Small details of administration, tariff sched- 
ules, currency schemes, do not as a rule afford much 
chance for emotional speaking; such subjects are 
better treated in simple, business-like debate; and thus 
debate is naturally fast taking the place before occu- 
pied by deliberative oratory. 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 13 

Above it has been said that the purpose of deliber- 
ative oratory is to persuade an audience to accept or 
to reject a policy for the future. Now, the object of 
persuasion is, of course, as common to forensic oratory 
as it is to deliberative ; but, in each of these cases, there 
is considerable difference in the relation of the speaker 
to the subject of the persuasion; and in the precise re- 
lation of the deliberative orator to his facts and 
arguments, we find the essential feature of the type of 
oratory before us. While the forensic orator, for ex- 
ample, simply presents a side of a case, without 
necessarily acting as sponsor for more than the logic 
of his argument, the deliberative orator accepts as his 
own the cause which he advocates; he believes fully 
in the inherent truth or justice of what he says, and he 
urges his hearers to adopt his position, as the one 
which, mhis best judgment, is most likely to result to 
their advantage. He stands as an adviser; his speech 
is counsel. And, from this attitude, the arguments 
which he uses and the construction of his speech to a 
great extent take their form. 

Let us look to this more closely, and first to the 
arguments. In order to determine what arguments 
will be most effective for him, the deliberative speaker, 
or any speaker in fact, must make a careful analysis 
of the audience which he is to address. He must de- 
termine, as accurately as possible, what its intelligence 
is, what are its prejudices, what motives are likely to 
be uppermost in the minds of those who compose it, 
and what interest it may have in the question in hand. 
Then, so far as he can, he must reduce the audience 
to a single individual, or, at least, to two or three indi- 
viduals, who shall represent for him its temperament. 



14 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

To these he will direct his arguments; and the ma- 
terial which is likely to prove most valuable is that 
which would be successful if used in conversation 
between man and man, where one acts as adviser, and 
the other listens to see how far his words may be of 
weight. The deliberative speech is an exceedingly 
practical and common-sense effort. The questions 
which come up . before legislative bodies and pub- 
lic meetings are those which embarrass the lives of 
each one of us nearly every day. They are those of 
present expediency as opposed to consistent principle, 
of personal interest as contrasted with public welfare, 
of friendly obligation against absolute justice. And 
the method by which the higher and broader aspect is 
made to triumph over the more sordid is no different 
in a speech from what it is in an earnest conversation. 
The same motives must be appealed to, the same 
interests must be combated, and in very much the 
same way. This the skillful speaker always realizes. 

Precisely the same practical purpose must be held 
before the speaker in the construction of his speech. 
Other forms of oratory admit of rhetorical embellish- 
ment and ornate composition; deliberative oratory 
rarely does. It must be straightforward, earnest, 
and sincere, and whatever tends to make it less so, 
and to attract attention from the substance of the 
speech to the manner of the speaker, is an element 
of weakness. Clearness and directness, rather than 
elegance, are the ends to be sought for. Specifically 
how these ends are to be gained is a question which 
must be left to text-books on rhetoric. Here we 
can only observe that it is of genuine importance 
that the deliberative speech center around a single 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 1 5 

idea or group of ideas, and that all evidence that 
is offered should have direct bearing on these points. 
All unessential, extrinsic matter must be rigorously 
excluded. The orderly development of the argu- 
ment is another very necessary element. By such 
methods as frequent iteration and summary, this de- 
velopment must, be clearly indicated. The audience 
should never be in doubt as to what the speaker's 
object is, or what purpose each idea that he introduces 
serves. The worst fate that can befall an oration is 
not to be heard; the next is to be unintelligible. 

In all kinds of oratory the character of the orator 
plays an important part in the effect his words pro- 
duce; but particularly is this the case in deliberative 
oratory. As has been noted, the deliberative speaker 
is the counselor who stands sponsor for the meas- 
ures which he advocates. However illogical at 
times it may be, the majority of people are unwilling 
to give much heed to the advice of one whose life tends 
to belie his words. No notorious evildoer is thought 
a good witness for the results of Spartan virtue; so 
no political speaker, whose past life is marked by 
tergiversation and truckling, has much authority when 
he appeals for unselfish support of a measure in which 
he is interested. The sincerity of his statements is 
called into question, and none choose to follow a leader 
who does not believe his own words. Consistency, 
therefore, between the utterances and the acts of a 
speaker, especially the deliberative speaker, is of 
the utmost importance. 

In review, then, we may say that the valuable facts 
to be remembered about deliberative oratory are its 
broad field and its exceedingly practical value. For- 



io THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

ensic and pulpit oratory are restricted to the members 
of a single profession, and but few out of many are 
called upon to pronounce a eulogy or to commemo- 
rate in speech a great event. But a deliberative 
speech, whether it be the great oration before a sen- 
ate or a few remarks on a motion in a public meeting, 
at some time or other comes as a duty to nearly 
every man. The precise nature of the deliberative ora- 
tion, we saw, is that of advice. The orator is the 
counselor, and upon this fact largely depends the ma- 
terial and the construction of his speech. 



IV. FORENSIC ORATORY. 

Although, for reasons that have been set forth, the 
capital importance of deliberative oratory cannot be 
questioned, this is neither the oldest, when regarded 
as a technical art, nor has it been the most highly per- 
fected of the various forms of speaking; both of these 
distinctions belong to forensic oratory — the oratory 
of the bar. As Professor Jebb has shown in his Attic 
Orators, public speaking was first taught and practiced 
scientifically, not as an art for its own sake, nor yet for 
political purposes; but to assist individuals in main- 
taining and recovering their rights in courts of law. 
In the courts, owing to ignorance of forms and pro- 
cedure, men often found themselves at a loss to secure 
justice; instruction was then given to help them, and 
this instruction formed the basis of the art of oratory. 
The broader interests of the community or nation, 
which are the themes of deliberative oratory, as well 
as the desire for artistic perfection, were at first sub- 



THE THEORY OE ORATORY. 17 

servient to the very practical end of obtaining and 
protecting personal rights. The technical superior- 
ity thus early acquired was never lost. The ma- 
jority of the great names in Grecian and Roman elo- 
quence are those of men famous for their forensic, 
rather than their political or panegyric, efforts; the 
schools and preceptors who did so much to develop 
oratorical taste and ability, had greatest regard for the 
forms of legal tribunals; in die treatises which were 
written, — those of Cicero and Quintilian, for example, 
— even in the definition of oratory itself, the forensic 
oration is undoubtedly the one held in mind. Clearly 
forensic oratory, in perfection of form and in the 
amount of attention paid to it, transcended all rivals 
in the ancient world. 

But this relative superiority obviously no longer 
exists, and we are at once constrained to ask why. 
The difference, more than to anything else is due to a 
change in the character of courts of law and their 
methods of procedure. The ancient court was com- 
posed of many more judges than we are now accus- 
tomed to; in the Areopagus, the renowned court of 
Athens, the number of judges has been differently esti- 
mated as from fifty to five hundred ; and in the tribunal 
at Rome before which Cicero spoke for Milo, the 
number was, it is said, at least fifty. With so many 
judges as this, a court was much like a popular assem- 
bly of citizens; the arguments which might be used 
and the emotions which might be appealed to, by a 
speaker, were similar to those to which the delibera- 
tive orator might have recourse. But in another, and 
from the standpoint of the orator, still more vital way, 
the ancient and the modern courts differ; namely, in 



1 8 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

the methods of procedure and in the freedom which 
was permitted in arguing a cause. Instead of being- 
confined within the narrow limits of a fixed form, and 
restricted to definite, unalterable rules, the forensic 
orator of Greece and Rome was little bound as to 
either the method or the material of his speech. The 
law was extremely simple ; Cicero said that it could be 
mastered in three months; and the judges, who sat on 
facts as well as law, based their decision largely on 
equity and a sense of justice. In addition to this the 
orator was granted a latitude of speech quite incom- 
prehensible to us; a defendant's life, his public services, 
his moral character, his family affairs, all could be 
drawn upon with impunity. Matter which to-day 
would be regarded as extraneous and wholly irrelevant 
was made the basis of argument. When Cicero spoke 
in behalf of the citizenship of the poet Archias, not 
more than one-sixth of his oration was on the legal 
question; the rest was a splendid laudation of Archias 
and of letters in general. As one writer has said, 
Cicero's argument was that " Archias was a Roman 
citizen, because he was a great Greek poet." 

To-day all this is manifestly different; the condi- 
tions are just about reversed. The number of judges 
sitting in any trial is small, rarely more than a dozen; 
and these men are governed in their rulings entirely 
by law and precedent; prejudice, the play of the emo- 
tions, which gave so much opportunity for the 
imagination and rhetoric of the ancient orator, are 
rigorously excluded and frowned upon. Questions 
are no longer settled by the baring of a bosom or by 
the exposure of a wound, but by hard facts and in- 
exorable logic. Still more, the pleader is confined 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 19 

within certain narrow and well-marked limits, and woe 
to him who, led by ardor in his cause, oversteps them. 
In the celebrated trial of Captain Baillie, when Erskine 
animadverted upon a certain Lord as the author of all 
the iniquity that Baillie had pointed out, he was repri- 
manded by Lord Mansfield, and told that that person 
was not before the court; in Cicero's time no heed of 
such an excursus would have been taken, except, per- 
haps, to note the success with which the charge was 
pressed. 

The results of the changes which we have noted 
are evident to every observer; forensic oratory has de- 
clined in both quality and quantity until now it is 
notable for its rarity, so thoroughly does oratory de- 
pend on the emotional appeal. Occasionally, to be 
sure, a cause will arise, such as the income-tax case 
of some years ago, or the impeachment of President 
Johnson, or the case which called forth the speech 
printed in this volume — a cause involving a great 
moral or political question; and then, for a brief mo- 
ment, forensic oratory will shine forth with its old 
luster. But such instances are not frequent. By the 
change we have unquestionably gained more accurate 
justice; but we have lost, in the main, a picturesque 
and inspiring oratory, the type thought by Cicero to be 
the greatest. 

Still, we shall undoubtedly be justified in consider- 
ing forensic methods in some detail; if not as a part 
of oratory, at least as an important part of public 
speaking. For our purposes the subject may be 
divided into two parts, the argument before judges, 
and that before juries. According to the modern sys- 
tem of judicature all questions of law are tried before 



20 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

judges; while, ordinarily, questions of fact are brought 
before juries. Juries are bodies of men chosen from 
the people, not wholly unassailable by the arts and 
charms of the pleader's tongue; judges, as has already 
been said, are usually few in number, and from long 
experience are less likely to be moved by other than 
sound argument. Evidently there must be a consider- 
able difference between the speech to be delivered 
before a jury and the one which is intended only for a 
bench. 

The speech before the jury naturally gives so much 
more opportunity for persuasive speaking that this is 
by many regarded as the chief source of the jury law- 
yer's success. Such an opinion is not, however, alto- 
gether correct. Juries are frequently on the watch 
for men who would win their verdict by speech rather 
than by argument; they are, for the most part, com- 
posed of hard-headed, matter-of-fact citizens, who, 
more times than is suspected, know when unsupported 
hypotheses and assumptions are given to them for 
facts. So it is not so axiomatic that persuasive 
speech is all that he requires who would win verdicts. 
More discriminating analysis will show that absolute 
lucidity of statement is a quality of almost as great 
importance. The advocate who can present a case 
in such a manner that a number of men, only ordi- 
narily perspicacious, see it so clearly that they can 
see no other side of it, is more likely to have perennial 
success than one who relies more completely on his 
ability to unbridle emotions. As is generally known, 
such was the source of much of the enviable power of 
Abraham Lincoln as a lawyer. Combined with an 
extraordinary gift for seeing just what was essential 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 21 

in a discussion, he had a genius for defining a po- 
sition so that no one could escape either the chain of 
his reasoning or the logic of his conclusions. An- 
other quality very necessary before a jury is sincerity; 
and this carries with it, as a corollary, simplicity of 
statement. No jury is likely to have respect for a 
man who, knowing better, makes grammatical errors 
for the purpose of putting himself, as it were, on a 
level with them. At the same time, anything a counsel 
can do to establish community of thought and feeling 
with the jury is for the better; and in no way can this 
be accomplished more skillfully than by downright 
earnestness and sincerity in speech. So, on the con- 
trary, an attempt to befuddle or hoodwink, or to ex- 
ploit diction, is more than certain to be disastrous. 
Jurymen generally assume seriously the task of dis- 
covering the truth from a body of facts ; with one who 
seems imbued with a like desire they are glad, when 
they can, to be in accord; but they do not take kindly 
to any attempt to make their duties more difficult. 
Aside, then, from persuasive speaking, the value of 
which can by no means be disregarded, clearness in 
presentation, and sincerity, are the important charac- 
teristics of the speech before the jury. 

The speech before judges presents a different fac- 
tor, and hence a different problem. As has been 
noted, the function of the trial before judges is to con- 
sider questions of law, not ordinarily questions of fact; 
and, therefore, opportunity for eloquence is reduced to 
a minimum. In jury trials, especially in those of 
criminal cases, the circumstances often permit ani- 
mated and even imaginative discourse; the trial of a 
point of law rarely does. So far indeed is this kind of 



2 2 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

speaking now removed from the realm of oratory that 
we need not long consider it. The address to the 
court is usually an exposition of legal principles, sup- 
ported by citations from cases and precedents. Learn- 
ing in the law and the faculty of stating precepts in a 
logical way seem to be the requisites; certainly they 
are more important than facundity. Clearness in 
presentation enters also, although, because of the 
greater intelligence and acumen of the audience, it 
has scarcely such value as in the speech to the 
jury. In fairness, too, one point must not be neg- 
lected; and this is that when appeals to the emotions 
are possible, they may be elevated and dignified. By 
tenure of office, by position in society, and by learn- 
ing, judges are removed beyond the obvious and less 
delicate methods of persuasion; but the dignity of 
justice, the necessity of preserving our institutions, 
and the sacredness of the rights of the individuals and 
classes committed to their hands, are themes which, 
although hackneyed, can, when chance offers, be used 
with great power and effectiveness. The character of 
the appeals thus in some way atones for the insuffi- 
cient opportunity for their use. 

The general structure of all forensic speeches, 
whether they be ancient or modern, or intended for 
judge or jury, is the same; they consist of three essen- 
tial parts: a statement of the facts on which the case 
rests; a statement, drawn from these facts, of the 
points at issue; and the proof of the issues. 
But before any attempt can be made at forensic 
speaking, there must precede what may technically 
be called the analysis of the question, the proc- 
ess by which what is really essential in a case is 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 23 

discovered. All litigation that comes before the law- 
yer's eye presents a multitude of facts, some of which 
are relevant, some of which are not; in every case there 
are, too, certain points which, if proved, will prove the 
general contention. Now, it is the part of the analysis 
of the question to determine, first, what these important 
points are, and, second, what relation the rest of the 
evidence bears to them. When this analysis, which, 
after the presentation of evidence, is the most essen- 
tial part of argumentation, has been made, the struc- 
ture of the oration is easily solved. After a brief in- 
troduction comes the statement of the events leading 
up to and out of which the contention arises. Al- 
though this statement must be made tersely, it must be 
full enough to give a just comprehension of the ques- 
tion and its bearings; and great care must also be 
taken that the facts be not distorted, but stated in a 
fair and unbiased way. Then come the issues, or, as 
they are sometimes called, the proposition; that is, just 
what the question resolves itself into. The argument 
proper follows. Each issue or division is taken up 
in order and proved or disproved, all the evidence 
being grouped under one or another of the heads. 
Finally, the oration ends either with a summary or 
with a spirited appeal, or with both. Later in this 
essay the parts of the typical oration are treated in 
detail; but as the structure of the forensic speech dif- 
fers, to some extent, from other forms, it was thought 
best to make here this brief statement. 



24 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

V. DEMONSTRATIVE ORATORY. 

The term demonstrative, it must be confessed, when 
applied to oratory conveys but very little meaning. 
We have noted above that the word is the transla- 
tion made by the Roman rhetoricians of the Greek 
epideictic (from Itti^ikw^ to display) meaning that 
which shows; the purpose of such orations being to 
show or set forth themes so as to appeal to the taste 
or cultivation of a hearer. But even after such 
an explanation, the pertinency of the term un- 
doubtedly seems forced; and if it were any less 
generally accepted by writers on oratory, or if a suf- 
ficient substitute could be offered, we should not make 
use of it at all. The word occasional, however, often 
employed in its stead, is really no better than demon- 
strative; for, although more intelligible, it gives 
scarcely any hint as to the purpose of the oratory to 
which it is applied; demonstrative at least does this. 
The province of demonstrative oratory was said by 
the ancients to be the praise or censure of persons or 
things, or, to put it differently, panegyric or invective. 
It applied to all such speeches "as having no reference 
either to deliberation for the future, or adjudication 
upon the past, were engrossed with the present mo- 
ment; and were usually adapted more to exhortation 
than to business; to show rather than to action." The 
field thus indicated is uncommonly large; the popu- 
lar lecture, the dedicatory or anniversary address, the 
commencement oration, the after-dinner speech — all 
come under the category. The purpose of all these 
is not to convince, so much as to charm the senses 
with words that are fit and adequate. 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 25 

Because it has no direct, practical value, and be- 
cause it aims ostensibly at nothing higher than to 
please, demonstrative has usually been regarded as 
the least important of the four great divisions of ora- 
tory. The general justness of this conclusion probably 
cannot be denied; and yet one may reasonably doubt 
whether it is true that this form of oratory does serve 
no purpose beyond the gratification of the senses. As 
an instance of something pointing to the contrary, 
the orations which used to be delivered in nearly every 
city and hamlet on Independence Day might be cited. 
Can it be said that these orations, reviewing, as they 
did, the hardships and successes of our forefathers, 
in inculcating patriotism, and in impressing later 
generations with the sacredness of the heritage handed 
down to them, were of no value to the state? Is it 
not certain that one who had heard such themes di- 
lated upon would inevitably have a higher sense of 
public duty, a stronger attachment for his country, 
than before? Or, to turn to another branch of demon- 
strative oratory, the eulogy. By common consent few 
things are more helpful than the biography of a good 
and great man. Such biographies, by bringing out 
the consistent beauty of high ideas and ideals, make 
life a sweeter and happier thing. But more than the 
critical, carefully weighed biography, the eulogy, pre- 
senting, as it does in large detail, characteristics lovely 
to look upon, contributes to this end. In holding up 
before the masses the importance of public virtue and 
integrity of conduct, the eulogy not only pays tribute 
to the dead, it furnishes inspiration for the living. 
The plea can, however, be placed on a much broader 
basis than that of mere utility. Oratory, just as litera- 



26 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

ture, painting, or music, is an art, a means of creative 
expression; and, because of the instruments which it 
employs, it has strong claims to be reckoned as the 
greatest of the creative arts. The art of the actor and 
the reader is joined with that of the man of letters, the 
philosopher, and the statesman, in producing the great 
orator. If, therefore, poetry, music, or painting, aside 
from the ideas or information which they convey, have 
justification for existing, oratory certainly has, too. 
No one will perhaps urge that oratory should be given 
the place it occupied in Greece, when it was chief 
among the fine arts, but everyone should regret that 
we have gone so far to the other extreme. Just why 
we have done this is a question futile to answer here; 
here we are concerned only in showing that oratory, 
as one of the fine arts of expression, in its demonstra- 
tive form, where it comes more nearly on common 
ground with the other arts, is worthy of the attention 
and cultivation of the best men. 

There is, moreover, a reason still beyond this, why 
this division of oratory should appeal to Americans, 
and particularly to students of to-day. In Greece and 
Rome demonstrative oratory was highly perfected and 
much practiced; in France, too, especially in the seven- 
teenth century, one form, the eulogy, received a great 
deal of attention ; but it is in our own country that the 
fullest expression of the type is to be found. A further 
fact, too, to be noted with more than usual care, is that 
the present epoch, that represented by the selections in 
this volume, beginning roughly with the War, is before 
anything else one of demonstrative oratory. In the 
history of oratory whatever place is ultimately as- 
signed to this period will be given it on account of its 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 27 

demonstrative speakers. In fact, in the past thirty years 
almost the entire production of enduring orations in 
the United States has been of this type. For this 
reason, in the selections much more space has been 
given to this than to any other division; and, for the 
same reason, we shall here be warranted in discussing 
with some fullness each of the forms which the demon- 
strative oration has taken: the eulogy, the commemo- 
rative oration, the platform oration, and the after-din- 
ner address. 

The Eulogy. — The eulogy, which is probably the 
oldest form of the oratory of display, was by the an- 
cients regarded as the most important. The subjects 
of eulogy were not, however, so restricted then as they 
are now; gods and cities, as well as men, could ap- 
propriately be made the themes of praise. In Greek 
literature of the many examples of the eulogy, the stu- 
dent will possibly recall first the discourse delivered 
by Pericles over those who fell in the Peloponnesian 
war, an oration which expresses lofty sentiment in a 
singularly restrained and temperate manner. In the 
modern world the French have attracted to themselves 
more honor in this field than any other nation. Espe- 
cially in the reign of Louis XIV. a group of men arose, 
— Bossuet, Massillon, Flechier, Bourdaloue, — whose 
names have since been synonymous with what is 
known as the funeral oration. All of these men were 
prelates, and their most famous discourses were de- 
livered at the obsequies of important personages of 
Louis' court. Besides their productions, the custom 
of the French Academy of having memorial addresses 
spoken after the deaths of its members has given 
to France an exceedingly large and brilliant eulogistic 



28 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

literature. In the United States the eulogy has also 
been a form of speech much practiced; scarcely any 
great man, certainly no one identified with public 
affairs, has died in this century who has not had his 
deeds commemorated in this way; and in many cases 
such orations are among the most enduring monu- 
ments which these men have had raised to their 
memory. 

With us the field of eulogy has been limited to the 
praises of men. And there are two ways in which these 
praises are generally handled. The first method, once 
much followed, is what may be called the biographi- 
cal method. A life is treated chronologically. From 
the early years to the end the eulogist follows with 
minuteness the career of the subject, reserving only a 
brief space before the conclusion for observations and 
reflections. Of such a treatment many illustrations 
will be found in the works of Edward Everett. That 
orator's address on Lafayette is, for example, simply 
a clear and painstaking sketch of the life of the great 
Frenchman. To-day, however, one finds the method 
used much less frequently. One reason for its 
abandonment was probably that, on the death of great 
men, newspapers and magazines furnish such ample 
accounts of their lives as to make repetition in a eulogy 
needless and tiresome. A still more valid reason may 
be, too, that the reciting of a biographical sketch has 
little to commend it to a man of ability or genius. By 
anyone having the proper materials such a sketch can 
be turned out; no great penetration or skill is required, 
nor, when the work is completed, does any great inter- 
est or value necessarily attach to it. 

Usually, therefore, we find a different plan is em- 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 29 

played by most speakers. In place of giving a chrono- 
logical narrative, but little attention is paid to events 
merely as such; perhaps no dates at all will be men- 
tioned; instead, an effort is made to single out and set 
forth clearly what the subject of the eulogy accom- 
plished in his life; what he stood for; what influence 
he exerted; and what is likely to be his place in his- 
tory. No especial discernment is needed to see that 
such a treatment, if well wrought, demands immeas- 
urably more ability than a mere biographical nar- 
rative. Much study and analysis is of necessity 
involved. A few central ideas must first be hit upon; 
then, from various places and circumstances, evidence 
must be extracted to demonstrate their truth and perti- 
nency. From many minor events, principles of action 
must be discovered; discrimination and judgment 
must be used; human nature must be read; motives 
unraveled; the relation of the subject to a series of 
events made certain. But, when all this has been 
accomplished, the result justifies the amount of labor 
expended. The life, touched by the genius of the 
orator, stands out luminously; the salient deeds are 
brought forward with their value made clear; the char- 
acter is solved ; the tribute due has been paid. 

In the treatment of nearly every eulogy one nice 
question generally arises, of which it may be well to 
speak: to what extent should the weakness of char- 
acter and the untoward events of a life have place? 
The tendency of all men 's naturally in the opposite 
direction; to exaggerate good qualkies and to say 
nothing about bad; and thus the fault with many eulo- 
gies — the French tributes of the seventeenth century 
are excellent examples — is that they are fulsomely in- 



30 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

discriminating; characters are not put in their proper 
light, judgments are far from judicious. But that 
such ought not to be the case need scarcely be said; 
there is no justification for speaking, if it is necessary 
to speak lies. Still, one must hasten to admit that the 
eulogist is not necessarily the biographer; he is not 
bound to dwell upon the events of a life with undevi- 
ating impartiality; to tell of all the vices as well as of 
all the virtues. He may reasonably choose to speak 
the praises of a life as he saw it, where the good much 
outweighed the evil. The eulogy of George William 
Curtis on Wendell Phillips is as perfect an illustration 
of the point before us as there is in modern literature. 
In the later years of Wendell Phillips' life there were 
many things of which so temperate and conservative 
a man as Mr. Curtis could not approve; yet he was not 
prevented from delivering a masterly oration on 
Phillips, and he found no necessity for saying anything 
that he could not believe. The orator simply laid 
stress on those parts of the career for which he had the 
profoundest reverence. Weighing the gold against 
the dross, he found the former overwhelmingly pre- 
dominating, and of this he spoke. The example is one 
that may well be taken for a model. Fulsome, indis- 
criminate praise cannot be enduring and cannot be 
too heartily condemned; but no one, because human 
nature is not perfect, need fear to speak a sincere 
tribute. 

The Commemorative Oration. — Although not so 
embedded in classic traditions as is the eulogy, a litera- 
ture replete with splendid achievements has been pro- 
duced by commemorative oratory. In our own coun- 
try, if one excepts a very few senatorial speeches, by 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 3 1 

far the best orations of the century belong to this 
type. Equally true is it that, in the published works of 
American orators, we find more commemorative ora- 
tions of the highest rank than of any other kind. 

The purpose of commemorative oratory is plainly to 
distinguish certain events, either those of the past or 
those of the present. When the events belong to the 
past, some anniversary day is usually the time for re- 
calling them; and hence the oration for such an occa- 
sion may be designated as an anniversary oration. 
When the events belong to the present, the laying of 
a corner stone, the dedication of a building or monu- 
ment, or some like incident, furnishes the theme; and 
then the effort may be called a dedicatory oration. In 
the selections which follow, room was found for but 
one of these types, the anniversary; but here we shall 
have something to say of each. 

In the anniversary oration, what is most essential 
is the bringing out clearly of the events to be com- 
memorated and the importance of these events in 
history. Roughly speaking, three methods, some- 
what similar to those noticed under the eulogy, are 
open. In the first, emphasis is thrown on the events, 
simply as such; in the second emphasis is thrown on 
the importance and meaning of the events; and in the 
last each of these points of view is touched upon. 
When the first method is followed, the qualifications 
demanded from the speaker are a rapid style and a 
sense for the order and proportion of incidents; and 
about the best thing that can be said of the oration, 
when it is delivered, is that it is an accurate, entertain- 
ing narrative. But this is clearly not the highest ex- 
pression of oratory. No chance is offered for the 



32 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

analysis, the breadth of view, and the imagination 
which stamp a great oration. The bulk of the ma- 
terial presented was probably to be found in a good 
history or encyclopedia; and all that was required of 
the speaker was the diligence to hunt it out and put 
it together. Still, when the incidents themselves are 
all that is important, as might be the case in a battle 
upon which nothing especially turned; or when they 
are exceedingly vivid and picturesque, or little known, 
this method of treatment may be made not uninterest- 
ing or uninstructive. 

In the second method, the actual events, either be- 
cause they are slight or because they are perfectly 
familiar to the audience, play but a small part; the re- 
sults of the events, their importance to mankind, these 
are the chief topics for the orator. That incident in 
American history which has been the subject of more 
great orations than any other, the landing of the Pil- 
grims, is one best treated in this manner. To be sure, 
in dealing with this theme, some account of the con- 
dition of affairs in England, the sojourn in Holland, 
the voyage across, and the landing, might and often 
has been introduced; but the greatness of the subject 
lies not here; it is rather in showing the value of the 
principles compelling these events, and still more, 
their consequences. This, obviously, too, demands a 
much higher order of intelligence and ability than the 
historical sketch. The orator must be a political phi- 
losopher, as well as a rhetorician and historian; he 
must see things in a large perspective; and in a com- 
plexity of conditions he must be able to detect the 
cause and the effect. 

Rarely, however, is it necessary for a speaker to 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 33 

deal altogether with principles and results; a combina- 
tion of narrative and reflection is usually both possible 
and desirable. When this, the combination of the two 
other methods, is adopted, the first part of the oration 
is given over to recalling the incidents, possibly in go- 
ing so far back as to examine the causes giving rise 
to them; and the last to the lessons to be drawn. Both 
elements then have place, but neither has undue 
prominence; and any danger of the oration becoming 
a philosophical treatise is avoided. The narrative 
lends spirit, and often much of the interest, to the com- 
position; the reflection gives it weight and abiding 
value. For the majority of occasions calling for an 
anniversary address, this plan of procedure will be 
found most suitable. There are exceptions, as has 
been noted; but this, we may say, is the normal 
type. 

In many respects the dedicatory address does not 
differ from the anniversary address. What a speaker 
would say at the dedication of a monument commemo- 
rating a great battle would, with little change, be 
appropriate at a celebration of the anniversary of the 
same battle. Here again, it is what happened in the 
past rather than the present that gives the event its 
chief significance. There are, however, dedicatory 
occasions which demand another form of speech from 
anything an anniversary might call forth ; the laying of 
the corner stone of a building or the opening of an ex- 
position are occasions in point. In such events the ora- 
tor must look around him, must gather from the 
moment his inspiration. W T hat is the meaning of the 
occasion; for what does it stand; are its results likely to 
be far-reaching in consequence? These are the ques- 



34 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

tions he must ask. The ability to see the real sig- 
nificance of movements is here of value. Does this 
mark an advance in our civilization; will it contribute 
definitely to the good of humanity? So prophecy also 
enters. With his words the speaker opens vistas into 
the future; he interprets for his hearers what they do 
not fully understand. Very few suggestions more 
specific than this can be laid down for the composition 
of these addresses. The time and circumstance of 
each occasion provide the orator with his general line 
of thought; his own skill and imagination must be his 
guide for the rest. 

Just a word of caution in regard to commemorative 
orations of both kinds may now be added. Nearly 
every address of this sort demands that the speaker 
shall deal with facts — generally, as we have seen, 
with historical facts. For the sake of antithesis, or the 
clever turning of a sentence, the temptation is often 
great to sacrifice absolute truth and accuracy. Again, 
the broad, unfounded generalization seems to appeal 
to the taste of many speakers. But the inclination 
which makes use of either of these expedients for the 
lack of better is in error. Exaggeration can never 
be truly sententious; generalities do not necessarily 
give breadth to a theme. Any stump speaker can 
make statements novel and astounding, and, until a 
bit of reflection discovers their speciousness, perhaps 
effective. The true orator does aim for picturesque, 
impelling sentences, but for truthful ones; and when 
he indulges in generalization, it is founded on fact and 
experience. Both of these errors are present to an 
unconscionable degree in what is known as college 
oratory. Speakers mistake the tinsel for the gold; 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 35 

their productions would be valuable if they meant 
anything and were founded on fact; but for the most 
part they are not. No more praiseworthy or reason- 
able piece of advice can be given to the youthful 
speaker than to caution him to weigh carefully the 
exactness of what he says. 

The Platform Oration. — The term platform ora- 
tion is little more than an arbitrary head, under which 
various types of demonstrative oratory that admit of 
no more accurate classification may be discussed. 
The popular lecture, the commencement address, the 
address before literary or scientific bodies, and the like, 
are the types referred to. Such orations, so far as 
their subject-matter goes, have very little in common; 
they are grouped together only because their end or 
object, which is to provide entertainment, or at best, 
to offer information in a casual way, is somewhat the 
same. 

In the period before the War, through the lyceum 
system, then so popular, the platform oration was an 
exceedingly powerful factor in molding public opin- 
ion and in educating rural communities. No city or 
town of any size was continuously without a lecture 
course, to which some of the excellent speakers of the 
time, — Phillips, Curtis, Emerson, Beecher, John B. 
Gough, or other men only less notable, — did not con- 
tribute. With the settling after the War, however, 
of many burning topics of controversy, and with the 
inundation of newspaper and magazine literature, the 
lyceum departed; the intermittent addresses delivered 
now during the winter months by professional lectur- 
ers reflect only a suggestion of its former popularity. 
Still, though the chief avenue of expression has been 



36 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

closed, the value and necessity for such speaking re- 
main. In the demands of commencement season, in 
the custom of Phi Beta Kappa societies of listening to 
an address each year, in the plan of such institutions as 
Chautauqua, there exists abundant incentive for study 
and accomplishment in platform oratory. 

In one important respect the platform oration dif- 
fers from any other of which we have so far spoken; 
it is usually upon no prescribed topic. The delibera- 
tive orator speaks on the motion before the house; the 
forensic orator on the case on trial; the themes of the 
eulogist and anniversary orator are also prescribed; 
but, without much exception, the platform speaker 
may choose his own subject. At first this may seem 
to be a matter of no great consequence; but in reality 
it is, for the selection of the best thing on which to 
speak is one of the most difficult of problems. In 
some cases, to be sure, a subject may be suggested 
and a lecture prepared without any definite idea as to 
the uses to which it may be put; but more often a 
speaker is asked to address a certain audience at a 
stated time, and for this occasion he must prepare. 

What subject, then, shall he choose? Life and litera- 
ture are full of interesting questions, but not all of 
them, indeed but a very few of them, are appropriate. 
Why all are not appropriate is because the range of 
topics to which any audience can listen agreeably at 
a given time is limited. The first duty of the speaker, 
therefore, is to find out precisely to whom he is to 
speak, for, unless he does this, he has no surety that 
his address will have the slightest relevancy or perti- 
nency. He must ascertain the character, the educa- 
tion, and the discernment of his hearers; and also 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 37 

under what circumstances they will have been brought 
together; then he can proceed intelligently. And in 
the final choice of his topic he will probably be gov- 
erned more than by anything else by two conditions: 
first, that his subject shall be one of interest to his 
audience; and second, that it shall be adapted to the 
occasion. 

Most important of all is it that a subject shall be 
interesting. Interest, however, is an exceedingly 
variable quantity; what is interesting at one time is not 
at another; what is absorbing to one man is not to a 
second. An educational topic which would entertain 
a college assembly would fill the office of the manager 
of a popular lecture course with indignant patrons; 
what is important in November may be dead by the 
following March. All this, although universally 
recognized by speakers, is not universally followed. 
Audiences are bored by most inappropriate themes; 
they are told to do things they never had any idea of 
not doing; and they are given information about which 
they care absolutely nothing. Indeed, too much em- 
phasis cannot be laid upon this point: that the utmost 
care should be expended by the speaker in discovering 
exactly what his audience will be interested in. 

It is, however, true that a topic in which an audi- 
ence has abstractly little interest, may yet prove an 
excellent one for an address. Such is the case where 
the speaker is an authority or expert in a special line 
of work. For instance, the influence of the moon on 
tides might not be an especially diverting subject to 
people of unscientific minds; yet just such people 
might be very eager to hear a talk on this question by 
one who had spent his whole life and gained great 



3§ THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

reputation in studying it. This idea is simply an ex- 
tension of the familiar aphorism that every man can be 
entertaining on one subject. So, before browsing be- 
yond, a speaker may well look within to see if he is 
not master of some field which for him would be more 
appropriate than any other. All this, too, has espe- 
cial adaptation for young speakers. In spite of the 
epithets flung back in its behalf, youth has great dis- 
advantages. A student may be better informed on a 
public question than a congressman, but the latter will 
get the invitation to speak; what a man may be ex- 
pected to know weighs heavily. Recently a young 
student who had gained considerable reputation as a 
speaker, was asked, with a number of distinguished 
men, to respond to a toast of his own selection at a 
banquet held on the birthday of Abraham Lincoln. 
Had he chosen to speak of Lincoln's political career, 
he would have been listened to with courtesy, but, by 
men who knew from experience the facts which he 
related from histories, hardly with interest. He chose 
rather as his subject, " Lincoln as a master of Eng- 
lish style," and scored the chief success of the even- 
ing. This was the one theme about which he not only 
knew more than his hearers, but about which they all 
realized he could know more. So, in a broader field, 
no man ought to have any difficulty in commanding 
attention when he speaks on a topic in which the 
world acknowledges his authority. 

Another quality that a topic must have is adapta- 
bility; that it shall be in itself interesting is not 
enough; it must be suited to the occasion, and, 
furthermore, susceptible of just the treatment re- 
quired. A subject which would be appropriate 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 39 

in one place might be very ill-fitted for an- 
other, .although the same audience were assem- 
bled; and a subject which would make an excel- 
lent magazine article might be wholly impossible for 
an oration. Following the last thought, we can see 
how such a question as Realism and Idealism in 
Literature, although a thoroughly vital one to each 
person of an audience, would hardly do for a great 
oration. On the other hand, " The importance of illus- 
trating New England history by a series of romances " 
furnished the text of one of Rufus Choate's best- 
known speeches. Both of these are literary topics, 
but they are very different; one is subtle, the other is 
open; one deals with fine distinctions and carefully 
spun hypotheses; the other with facts that can with 
very little difficulty be made intelligible. The general 
conclusion to be drawn is that a question to be suit- 
able for an oral address must be capable of being 
treated along broad, easily comprehended lines; it 
must not require overdefinition or too nice discrimina- 
tion, for, if it does, it probably cannot be followed. 

The last few observations lead us naturally to a 
brief statement of the structure of the platform ora- 
tion. In this kind of a speech the introduction is of 
considerable importance. It may show why the ques- 
tion has been chosen, why it is of interest, and why a 
discussion of it at that time is particularly desirable. 
Then will follow whatever explanation is necessary 
in regard to the subject and its meaning; that 
is, the definition of the terms. This definition, how- 
ever mechanical it may seem, should never be omit- 
ted if there can be the slightest doubt in the mind of a 
single listener as to just how the subject is to be taken; 



4° THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

accurate definition may prevent a part or the whole 
of an address from being vague or positively mis- 
understood. The terms having been made clear, the 
general method of treatment should then be set forth. 
This may be accomplished by a formal partition, or it 
may not; but the point of view that the speaker is to 
adopt may well be stated. A little extra care at the 
outset to put one's hearers on the right track is always 
repaid tenfold in the lucidity that results. The dis- 
cussion proper, that is, the body of the oration, follows 
these preliminary statements. Here the plan pre- 
viously announced, or, at least, carefully determined 
upon by the speaker, must be rigorously carried out. 
There must be no aimless wandering from point to 
point, as the thought of the moment may suggest. A 
few central ideas must underlie the whole speech; and 
all the incidents and details that are used must bear 
directly on some one of them. Care should also be 
taken not to introduce too many ideas or propositions. 
The ends of speaking are much better served, and the 
results much greater, if the mind of an audience is not 
overtaxed. 

The After-dinner Address. — That there is a 
great deal of after-dinner speaking no one can profit- 
ably undertake to deny; but that there is much after- 
dinner oratory is far from certain. The difference 
between the two is that between a good play and a 
bad burlesque. As it is commonly practiced, after- 
dinner speaking is inane, useless, and frequently 
degrading. The greatest reputation for skill in the 
art seems to go to the man who can speak without 
touching his toast for a sober moment, and who, with 
most perfect incoherence, can join together a string of 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 4 1 

stories. The inexplicable part of the custom is, too, 
that no one enjoys it. The speakers, unless they be 
thoroughly hardened offenders, lose the pleasure of the 
dinner in anxiety; while most of the guests are insuf- 
ferably bored, both in the expectation and in the 
endurance of the season of nonsense extending far 
into the next morning. Fortunately, as the reputation 
for wit is the most dangerous that any speaker can 
have, few men of real ability are successful in 
this line. Indeed, if we had nothing more than 
the typical concoction of the famous after-dinner 
speaker to consider, there would be no need of a para- 
graph on this subject here. 

There is, however, a kind of after-dinner oratory 
well worth serious treatment. Such orations (perhaps 
they had better be termed speeches) are called forth 
generally at occasions of two sorts — at dinners given 
in honor of some distinguished foreign or national 
guest, or at those which celebrate a notable event, 
either of the past or of the present. Of speeches suit- 
able for occasions of the first kind not much need be 
said. Elegance and affability of manner, courtesy, 
and a nicely discriminating taste are more essential 
to them than ideas. Though the range of topics 
which may be introduced is wide, the chief purpose is 
the pleasant felicitation of the stranger. Edward 
Everett, who did nearly everything in demonstrative 
oratory as well as other men have done special things, 
has several addresses of this sort, well worth perusal 
as models of graceful, cultivated speech. 

The other — the anniversary occasion — is both more 
common (the birthdays of Washington, Lincoln, and 
Grant, and the 226. of December at once suggest them- 



42 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

selves), and also requires remarks of more substance 
and weight. For such occasions the speaker is some- 
times permitted to select the sentiment to which he 
will respond, sometimes the choice is not left to him. 
But, whichever way the subject comes, in the prepara- 
tion of his speech certain definite rules can be followed 
to great advantage. As the address must be very- 
brief, ten minutes being none too short, only one or 
two ideas are necessary; these, however, must be 
original and striking. It is not an easy matter to find 
something fresh in a subject already dredged by hun- 
dreds of men bent on the same quest; yet diligent 
effort can usually discover, if not a new point, at least 
a new way of looking at an old one. And this should 
be made the theme of the speech. 

Just as much, or even more care, must be spent in 
the method of statement. The whole effort must be 
as free and spontaneous as it possibly can be. Of 
course this does not mean that there should be no 
premeditation or preparation; the material for an 
after-dinner speech should be worked over with as 
much thoroughness as that for any other; but the 
lucubration must not be evident. The opening sen- 
tences should take their form easily from the introduc- 
tory words of the toastmaster, or else they should con- 
tain some sprightly reference to the occasion; the 
whole introduction, in fact, should be light and airy, 
and even a tactful anecdote may be made to serve as 
a sop to the inveterate custom of story-telling. But 
not much time can thus be spent. As soon as practi- 
cable the speaker must come to the purpose of his 
speech, his point. This he should make clearly and 
forcibly, with a few carefully chosen illustrations and 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 43 

bits of evidence; and then he should sit down. Clear, 
vigorous work, brought to a speedy conclusion, is the 
summum bonum. Yet the speech must be brisk with- 
out being hurried; forceful without being aggressive. 
The speaker must not forget that his purpose is to 
please rather than to proselytize, and that charm of 
manner and felicity of phrase are quite as necessary as 
the compelling idea. 

After-dinner speaking has always been popular in 
this country, and from anything one can see now, is 
likely to continue to be. Although, as it is commonly 
meted out, it is intolerably silly, it does, sometimes, 
offer a chance to say things of the utmost value. The 
speech printed in this volume is a striking example. 
So, as long as the opportunities of the orator are so 
few as they are now, and so long as the people who are 
compelled to go to dinners do not rise in their might, 
there seems little sense in anyone's wasting strength 
in denouncing the custom. 



VI. PULPIT ORATORY. 

Of the various forms of oratory which we have to 
consider, the last is that of the pulpit, the oratory of 
the Christian Church. Unlike any of the foregoing 
divisions, pulpit oratory rests on no classic models, and 
is the subject of no ancient treatises; but its history is 
studded with great names and it has a literature both 
brilliant and voluminous. Beginning with Christ- 
ianity, the pulpit has been the chief means by which 
the dogma of the Church has been propagated and 
disseminated throughout the world. Reckoning, too, 



44 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

simply by the amount of attention paid to it both by 
speakers and by audiences, this is probably the most 
important of the forms of public speaking practiced 
to-day. 

The history of pulpit oratory begins with the apos- 
tles, the greatest of whom, in this as in other respects, 
was undoubtedly St. Paul. Then follow the Greek 
and Roman patristic orators, among them Augustine 
and Chrysostom, all in all, perhaps, the most gifted 
body of men that the Church has produced. During 
the Middle Ages, when all learning was in abeyance 
except that nurtured by ecclesiastical bodies, the pul- 
pit alone kept alive the oratorical culture of the past. 
Later, in the same period, stand out the preachers of 
the Crusades, who, for the mighty torrent which they 
set in motion, deserve to be accounted among the 
very highest masters of persuasive eloquence of all 
times. The Reformation is another great event of his- 
tory which may safely be ascribed to the influence of 
the pulpit; Savonarola, Luther, Calvin, Latimer, John 
Knox, accomplished what they did chiefly through the 
medium of spoken words. In modern times, the 
French prelates have been possibly the most famous; 
although in our own country and in Great Britain the 
sermon has always been much cultivated, and, as has 
been said, is perhaps the most popular form of public 
speech now engaged in. 

When we pause to consider of what institution 
pulpit oratory is the exponent, and its place in that 
institution, this history does not seem any more re- 
markable than might be expected. After govern- 
ment itself, no factor in human affairs is so impor- 
tant as the Church, none concerns so many people in 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 45 

so essential a way; and in the Church more prominent 
than any other feature is the sermon. The sermon is 
the chief means for promulgating the faith; the sub- 
stantial reason why men assemble each Sunday; the 
nucleus around which all other worship converges. 
Cause therefore exists why the sermon should have 
been so diligently studied in the past, and why preach- 
ing should have been so effective in history. In 
no other profession is theie so much real incentive to 
excel in oratory as in the ministry. A man may be- 
come a statesman without being an orator, a lawyer 
without being an advocate; but he cannot well be a 
successful minister without being a preacher. 

There are, furthermore, certain great advantages 
which the pulpit orator has over other speakers. The 
themes which he treats are, for the audience he ad- 
dresses, paramount to any other; they deal not with 
aesthetic appreciation, or with earthly rights, but with 
the most momentous questions of human conduct and 
a future life. The building in which he speaks is espe- 
cially adapted for the purpose for which it is used. In 
a material way the acoustics and the seating arrange- 
ments are as nearly perfect as they can be made; no 
inclement weather or ill-lighted auditorium can lessen 
the effect of the discourse. In a higher sense, the 
stained windows, the music, the decorations of the 
chancel add spirituality and reverence to the scene. 
In addition to this, the preacher knows just when, un- 
der what circumstances, and to whom he will make his 
address. No one can take his time or interrupt him, 
and nothing can happen to vex or make impatient his 
congregation. In short, nearly every condition which 
makes up two of the three essentials of oratory — the 



46 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

subject and the occasion — the pulpit orator has at his 
command. 

The fact is therefore inexplicable to the student of 
public speaking why sermons are usually so bad as 
they are. Few, however, who have taken the trouble 
to observe with much thoroughness will deny that 
such is the case; that sermons are in general bad. 
Sunday after Sunday congregations listen to thought- 
less, structureless, carelessly composed discourses 
which would be tolerated by no other audiences in the 
universe. Nor is reference here made to the preach- 
ing of clergymen in the smaller towns. The truth is 
that in no other profession does so little discrepancy 
exist between the ability of the better and the less- 
known men, as in the ministry, and that one is almost 
as likely to hear a well-wrought sermon in a small 
town as in Boston, New York, or Chicago. It is to 
the ministers who hold the important charges, who 
preach to the most cultivated people, that the stric- 
ture applies with the greatest force. These men 
standing at the head, the historic successors of Paul 
and Gregory, of Athanasius and Chrysostom, of Peter 
and Bernard, in an age when skepticism is so fast 
multiplying as to provoke the most powerful and im- 
passioned utterance, cause by their weekly homilies 
hardly a ripple in the great tide of the best human 
thought. 

One answer in explanation of this condition is often 
made and is not without some pertinency: that a 
clergyman in endeavoring to prepare each week two 
sermons, and sometimes more, undertakes what no 
other speaker would think of attempting. Granting 
the assistance to be derived from commentaries, from 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 47 

a familiar subject, and from a fund of old material, 
this is an almost superhuman task. Very few men in- 
deed — even those with the greatest fecundity of 
thought — can make ideas worth listening to so rapidly; 
few, given all their matter, can arrange and digest it 
in so short a space as one week. What wonder is it 
then, people say, that the preacher is dull and jejune; 
how can he be expected, besides attending many meet- 
ings and making innumerable calls, to reflect long 
enough to present something fresh and original each 
Sunday? 

The retort is perfectly well taken ; and yet it does not 
destroy the criticism that sermons are bad when, for 
the importance of the cause and the dignity of the 
Church, they ought to be good. Rather, the reply 
should turn attention to the remedy which lies near at 
hand. This remedy is undoubtedly in the general 
recognition of the fact that one good sermon is of more 
account than three poor ones ; and that a minister had 
much better limit himself to a single effort each month 
than to deliver half a dozen ill-conceived and badly 
stated. For the other services, the advice may well be 
adopted of Dr. Parker of London, who urged that 
when two meetings were held on Sunday, at one of 
them the sermon of some great pulpit orator of the 
past should be read. Not only would the minister 
thus gain opportunity to make his own work better, 
but the minds of his congregation would, of necessity, 
be broadened, refined, and illuminated, by hearing the 
words of a great man, who otherwise would be quite 
unknown to them. 

Turning now to speak more specifically of the faults 
in sermons, we may say that, in general, there are three 



4 8 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

which stand out more prominently than others: inco- 
herent structure, lack of adaptability to the audiences 
to which they are addressed, and assertiveness. 

The necessity and value of clear, well-defined struc- 
ture have been brought out above, more than once. 
It has been insisted that all spoken discourses must be 
built on a plan; that a few fundamental ideas must 
underlie every speech, and that all that is said must 
bear directly on them ; that because of the much greater 
difficulty of comprehending, when it is spoken, what 
would be easily intelligible in print, the plan, struc- 
ture, and arrangement of a speech must always be 
easily discernible to the hearer. So much has been 
stated and insisted upon before. There is, however, 
because of the peculiar liability of sermons to err in 
this way, good reason for once more returning to the 
topic. A large proportion of the sermons that one 
hears seem to be built according to the scheme once 
propounded to the writer by a leading clergyman in 
one of the largest cities of the country. He said that 
his rule was to place before himself so many sheets of 
paper; as many as would fill the allotted time when 
delivered; and then to write until his paper was ex- 
hausted. Wherever the momentary thought or im- 
pulse directed such a man, there, without the slightest 
regard to the relevancy of the idea, his hearers on the 
following Sunday would be led; and the progress of 
his composition might be indicated by a series of 
scratch marks, darting hither and yon over vast areas, 
without reason or logical connection. The chief ob- 
jection to such work is that it can make no lasting 
impression. Each sentence, as it is uttered, is a uni- 
fied and comprehensible whole; but the total effect is 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 49 

blurred and indistinct. There are no general divisions 
in which the ideas may be stored away; no conception 
of the theme as a whole; and hence no lasting effect. 
Such is, however, possibly the most common fault of 
sermons to-day. 

The seriousness of the second difficulty, the lack of 
adaptability of sermons to the audiences to which they 
are addressed, has also been spoken of before, in not- 
ing, under the head of platform oratory, the impor- 
tance of choosing suitable topics for orations. In- 
stead of analyzing, as he should do in every case, the 
real needs and the exact attitude of his audience, the 
pulpit speaker frequently seems to give himself no 
concern about the applicability of what he says. We 
find sins denounced which do not remotely tempt a 
single person in a congregation, while questions which 
daily vex and perplex life are left untouched; or, as a 
basis for a sermon, a point of view or a dogma is 
assumed which by no means all are disposed to ad- 
mit without question. The result is that words so 
carelessly directed make little impression; they fly 
either above or below, but they do not hit the mark; 
they carry no conviction. The minister is surprised 
that his congregations go to sleep, or fumble their 
watches and read hymns. But why should they not? 
His comment does not touch their troubles and weak- 
nesses, so why should he be attended to? And thus, 
in a great measure, the purpose of his teaching is lost. 

The third fault, not so prominent as the other two, 
but still well worth mentioning, is the tendency which 
preachers have to make assertive, unfounded state- 
ments. The fact that no one can contradict or con- 
fute the pulpit orator is not an unmixed blessing; for 



50 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

it leads, unless much caution is observed, into care- 
lessness in the treatment of a subject. Constantly 
most extraordinary asseverations are heard in the pul- 
pit for which no evidence is presented, and which, 
therefore, produce no belief. To be sure one cannot 
reasonably demand that such elaborate proof shall be 
offered to a congregation as is given to a court of law; 
yet when a man addresses intelligent people, either in 
or outside a church, he has to remember that affirma- 
tions, beyond the special field in which he is an ex- 
pert, carry no substantial assent. Much better is it, 
instead of asking an audience to accept unsupported 
conclusions, to show the reasoning by which those 
conclusions have been arrived at; and, when 
thoughts and facts are cited on a point, to indicate the 
value of the sources. Care of this sort in no way de- 
tracts from the dignity or authority of the Gospel; 
but it places a sermon on the same ground with other 
scholarly work, and gives it, in the minds of thought- 
ful persons, much more weight and importance. 

Constructively, what the sermon should contain, 
what the different parts are and their relation to each 
other, the place of the text and its treatment — all these 
topics, too vast and technical for discussion here, must 
be left to special treatises on homiletics. But, before 
turning to another part of our subject, it may possibly 
be well to summarize here briefly the admirable rules 
which Dr. Blair, who treats this division of oratory 
more suggestively than any other rhetorical writer, 
lays down in respect to the sermon. The first point 
that he makes, — that a sermon should have unity, — 
meaning by this " that there should be one main point 
to which the whole strain of the sermon should refer," 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 5 1 

has already been dwelt upon very fully. But Dr. 
Blair's words are well worth adding. He says, " It 
[the sermon] must not be a bundle of different sub- 
jects strung together, but one object must predominate 
throughout. This rule is founded on what we call 
experience, that the mind can fully attend only to one 
capital object at a time. By dividing, you always 
weaken the impression. Now this unity, without 
which no sermon can either have much beauty or 
much force, does not require that there should be no 
divisions or separate heads in the discourse, or that 
one single thought only should be, again and again, 
turned up to the hearers in different lights. It is not 
to be understood in so narrow a sense; it admits of 
some variety; it admits of under parts and appen- 
dages, provided always that so much union and con- 
nection be observed, as to make the whole concur in 
some one impression upon the mind." 

The second point Blair urges is that sermons are 
always the more striking and useful, the more pre- 
cise and particular is their subject. General subjects 
are often chosen by young preachers as the most 
showy, and the easiest to be handled, but, because they 
lead almost inevitably into commonplaces, they are 
not the most serviceable for producing the high 
effects of preaching. " Attention," the writer de- 
clares, " is much more commanded by seizing some 
particular view of a great subject, some single interest- 
ing topic, and directing to that point the whole force 
of argument and eloquence. To recommend some 
one grace or virtue, or to inveigh against a particular 
vice, furnishes a subject not deficient in unity or pre- 
cision; but if we confine ourselves to that virtue or 



52 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

vice as assuming a particular aspect, and consider it as 
it appears in certain characters, or affects certain situa- 
tions in life, the subject becomes still more in- 
teresting." 

The third suggestion is that a preacher should 
never study to say all that can be said upon a topic; 
and the fourth, that, above all things, a sermon should 
be interesting. No error is greater than the attempt 
to cover in half an hour all the ideas which centuries 
have associated with a subject. In place of this the 
most useful and persuasive thoughts that a text sug- 
gests should be selected, and to these the discourse 
should be devoted. Some things may be taken for 
granted; and some must be touched upon lightly; but 
if nothing that a subject may suggest is omitted, the 
treatment is certain to be cursory and extremely 
superficial. 

The point about interest, too, is excellently well 
taken. " A dry sermon can never be a good one." 
And the only way that this interest can be secured is 
by observing the caution already made: that the ad- 
dress be adapted especially to the audience which must 
listen to it. In this respect Dr. Blair observes that 
" It will be of much advantage to keep always in 
view the different ages, characters, and conditions 
of men, and to accommodate directions and exhor- 
tations to these different classes of hearers. When- 
ever you bring forth what a man feels to touch 
his own character, or to suit his own circum- 
stances, you are sure of interesting him." He 
also advises with much astuteness that a preacher 
should place himself in the situation of a serious 
hearer. " Let him suppose the subject addressed to 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 53 

himself: let him consider what views of it would strike 
him most; what arguments would be most likely to 
persuade him; what parts of it would dwell most on 
his mind. Let these be employed as his principal 
materials; and in these it is most likely that his genius 
will assert itself with the greatest vigor." All these 
suggestions are admirably well taken; and, because 
of the experience of the writer, who was a gifted ora- 
tor and celebrated preacher as well as a rhetorician, 
they deserve more than ordinary attention. No pulpit 
speaker can long afford to neglect them, for they are 
based on the inherent, elemental principles which un- 
derlie all spoken discourse. 



II. 

VII. THE DIVISIONS OF THE ORATION. 

Thus far we have been considering the four differ- 
ent forms of oratory which in the past have been most 
conspicuous. Next we must turn to another phase of 
the subject, we must examine the oration itself. And 
the first topic to which we must give some attention 
is an enumeration of the parts into which an oration 
may be divided, a question upon which by no means 
all writers have been agreed. Common tradition has 
it that the first person to make the analysis of a speech 
was Corax, the Sicilian rhetorician, who framed four 
divisions: introduction, narration, proof, and conclu- 
sion. Aristotle, a number of years later, reaches prac- 
tically the same result, although his designation is 
slightly different; he, also, has four divisions: ex- 
ordium, exposition, proof, and peroration. The first 



54 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

important deviation from this plan is made by Cicero, 
who adds two new divisions, thus making in all six: 
introduction, narration, proposition, proof, refutation, 
and conclusion. Ouintilian, inasmuch as he puts 
the proposition under the narration, again alters this; 
and modern writers have been equally unable to ac- 
cept implicitly any of the arrangements. 

In reality, it must be said, the plan adopted makes 
very little difference. Aristotle includes everything 
that is essential in his four parts; and to place the 
proposition under a separate head, and to distinguish 
between direct and indirect proof by calling one con- 
firmation and the other confutation, is simply to re- 
fine more subtilely, and not to add anything new. A 
much more pertinent objection is that some of these 
divisions are not adapted to modern conditions. It is 
absurd to call the body of the oration the proof when 
(as in the case of a sermon or a eulogy) it may contain 
no trace of argument; and to designate any part as the 
proposition is anachronistic, for now most orations 
have no proposition. Such terms as these are a relic 
of the time when a majority of speeches were argu- 
ments, when nearly all oratory worth writing about 
was forensic. But to-day, when pulpit oratory has 
arisen and demonstrative oratory has so much promi- 
nence, such divisions are very misleading. 

We should, then, either omit or find some fresh 
designation for at least two of the divisions of the an- 
cient rhetoricians. The latter is the better course. 
In place of proof, the body of the oration can be called 
the discussion; and in place of proposition, the word 
which fills a similar office for exposition, partition, 
may be adopted. The other three divisions as named 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 55 

by Cicero are serviceable and can be retained. We 
shall then have five parts in the oration: (i) introduc- 
tion, (2) narration, (3) partition, (4) discussion, (5) 
conclusion. Not all of these parts will be found in 
every public address ; usually no more than three — the 
introduction, the discussion, and the conclusion; but 
the five represent the completest structure, and each 
therefore will be the subject of some comment in what 
follows. 

VIII. THE INTRODUCTION. 

The introduction, the beginning, is always an ex- 
tremely important part of any discourse, whether it be 
spoken or written. We all know how many magazine 
articles are cast aside after the opening paragraphs 
have been glanced through, and how many speeches 
cease to command attention after the first five minutes. 
At the outset of a discourse, an audience, fresh and 
eager, gives more unsought attention, and is also in a 
more critical mood, than at any other time; the jar- 
ring phrase or the slightly ungraceful gesture will 
then be noticed which, in the thrill of the discussion 
proper, would pass unremarked. Hence, in many 
cases, if an orator is to win a hearing for his cause at 
all, it must be at the beginning. Once let an audi- 
ence conclude that an address is to be dry and un- 
profitable and relax their interest, and only with the 
greatest exertion can they be recalled; but let that 
interest be gained at the start, and the rest is likely to 
be fair sailing. 

Cicero stated very succinctly the purpose of the 
introduction when he said that it should " pre- 
pare the minds of the audience for a favorable recep- 



56 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

tion of what follows." Analyzing this dictum a little 
further, we may add that the minds of an audience are 
generally of one of two complexions; either they are 
hostile, in which case they must be made tractable, or 
th'ey are inert and inattentive, and must be interested; 
and hence the function of the introduction to a dis- 
course is usually either to placate or to interest. The 
first of these two problems is much the more difficult; 
to win the favor of a bickering crowd being perhaps 
the highest evidence of oratorical art. But for the 
accomplishment of this end, since so much depends on 
the color and temperament of each body of hearers, no 
very precise rules can be laid down. Possibly the 
most common method employed is where the speaker 
attempts at the outset to establish some bond of sym- 
pathy between himself and those before him. On the 
question in hand, to be sure, some difference of 
opinion exists, but on many other points the two are 
united; why not, then, bear with a brief statement of 
the present topic? Or he may insist that he and his 
audience are, in reality, not so far apart after all, they 
happen to look at the question in only a little different 
perspective; or he may appeal to their fair-mindedness 
to hear both sides before coming to a definite conclu- 
sion; or he may show that their abiding interest lies 
with him, not with his opponent, whom they momen- 
tarily follow. All such methods as these, and many 
more drawn from the nature of the cause, lie at the 
command of the speaker, by which he may insinuate 
himself into favor. Another way, somewhat less easy 
of accomplishment, is also open: for the orator to con- 
ciliate through some reference to himself, his history, 
or his vocation. The difficulty in such cases lies of 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 57 

course in handling delicately and inoffensively the 
subject of one's self; although, when common senti- 
ment, ancestry, training, predilection, or experience, 
actually exist, no great harm can come from stating 
the facts modestly and adroitly. As examples of in- 
troductions for hostile audiences, none show more 
insight than those which preface the addresses made 
by Henry Ward Beecher in England in 1863. 

Not often, however, must a speaker nowadays ad- 
dress those positively inimical to him; much more 
frequently his sole duty is to grapple and overcome 
that vast inertia which every audience presents. Few 
assemblies are so intent on a subject that they need no 
word of stimulus to prod their interest and demon- 
strate to them why they should pay careful heed to the 
discussion. This, then, is a second purpose of the 
introduction — to win attention; and it is also secured 
from two sources: from some tactful reference to the 
speaker's knowledge of the subject and his association 
with it, or from the subject itself; the latter again fur- 
nishing a greater variety of themes. Now, a subject 
may be interesting in itself for three reasons: because 
of its inherent importance, because of the amount of 
discussion it has aroused, or because of some event or 
circumstance with which it is identified. In framing 
any introduction, all three or only a single one of these 
ideas may be touched upon, according to the time or 
place of the oration. An address on civil service re- 
form, for instance, delivered shortly after a new admin- 
istration had come into power, might get its chief 
interest from current events; two years later, the in- 
herent importance of the subject might more appro- 
priately form the burden of the introduction. 



5 8 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

But whenever possible, it may be said, the imme- 
diate occasion, the place, the words of a preceding 
speaker, probably form the best sort of introduction 
to an address. The reason for this is that such ideas 
make the opening, and indeed the whole speech, 
fresher and more spontaneous — an end much to be 
sought for. Quintilian gives expression to this 
thought with singular felicity. He says, " There is 
much attraction in an exordium which derives its sub- 
stance from the pleading of our opponent, for this rea- 
son, that it does not appear to have been composed at 
home, but to be produced on the spot, and from the 
suggestion of the subject; it increases the reputation 
of the speaker for ability, from the facility which he 
exhibits, and, from wearing the appearance of a plain 
address, prompted by what has just been said, gains 
him the confidence of his audience; insomuch that, 
though the rest of his speech may be written and care- 
fully studied, the whole of it nevertheless seems almost 
entirely extemporaneous, as it is evident that its com- 
mencement received no preparation at all." Only in 
a less degree is this true when the idea of the opening 
paragraphs is taken from the scene, the occasion, or 
the circumstance, which call forth the effort; when the 
speaker expresses the thoughts inarticulate in other 
minds. 

As a usual thing the introduction should be so 
striking and beautiful as to exact the attention of even 
the most reluctant. Such was the plan of Daniel 
Webster, whose exordiums are among the choicest 
gems of his oratory. And yet there is a caution to be 
uttered against making the opening so grand and im- 
pressive that the rest of the speech seems anti-climac- 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 59 

tic. No higher or loftier note should be sounded than 
can be sustained in other parts, particularly at the end; 
and, in addition, nothing should be admitted that is 
artificial or bombastic. Strength and impressiveness 
should be sought for; but simple, natural strength, 
rather than high-flown declamation. Smoothness, 
ease, and grace must also be cultivated, for nowhere, 
as has been observed, does halting, nervous ineffect- 
iveness count more to the ill, than when the audience 
is fresh to notice and to criticise. No mention of the 
difficulties the speaker has labored under, or his lack 
of preparation, should ever be admitted: no apology 
for a poor performance is tolerable. If a speaker 
takes the floor, his duty is to do the best he can; not to 
make his effort worse by tedious, obvious remarks in 
exculpation. 

Not every address requires a formal introduction. 
Particularly is this the case in deliberative oratory, 
when a speech is delivered in the course of an ex- 
tended debate. Then, in all probability, all that is 
needed is a few sentences which shall join the speech 
to the one that preceded it. The importance of the 
discussion, its bearing, and like topics have doubtless 
been touched upon by previous speakers. The same 
is also true at times in forensic oratory, when the 
plea of one advocate follows that of a colleague or an 
opponent. Even in these cases, however, a brief 
word or two is better indulged in before plunging into 
the argument proper, since the speech is thus given 
a certain form, a completeness, which otherwise will 
be lacking. Beyond such a rule, the length of an in- 
troduction can never be determined except for each 
occasion as it arises. The usual suggestion made by 



60 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

writers is that the introduction should be short and to 
the point; but short may mean, in some instances, 
several pages. The length, as in any work of art, 
should be in proportion to the structure; it should be 
long enough to accomplish the wished-for end, and 
no longer; but whether this is ten or one thousand 
words, depends entirely upon conditions. 

IX. THE NARRATION. 

The narration normally follows the introduction, 
and states the facts necessary for an intelligent and 
satisfactory understanding of the question. As, how- 
ever, an exposition of facts is not required in the 
treatment of all subjects, the narration is not an essen- 
tial part of every discourse. Its use is, indeed, chiefly 
limited to the field of deliberative, pulpit, and forensic 
oratory; although it is occasionally employed in dem- 
onstrative oratory as well. 

Although deliberative oratory deals almost entirely 
with questions of future expediency, so frequently does 
the settlement of such questions depend on conditions 
in the past that the narration is usually an important 
element of orations of this type. Certain facts and 
conditions of the past must be made known before 
any adequate discussion in regard to the future can 
be carried on. If, for example, appropriations are de- 
sired for an increase of coast defenses, those appealed 
to must be told what the present defenses are, when 
they were built, how much they cost, their condition, 
whether they are of an approved type. They also 
must know, approximately, what could be accom- 
plished for the amount of money asked for; what guns 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 61 

could be purchased, where they could be placed, and 
how far they would go toward making the seaboard 
secure. Only after these facts, which properly be- 
long to the narration, have been stated, can the gen- 
eral proposition be argued. The student, recalling 
how large a proportion such questions form of all 
that come before a legislative body, will at once recog- 
nize the place and importance of the narration in 
deliberative oratory. 

In pulpit oratory the function of the narration is 
usually to make clear the meaning of the text, or to 
elucidate in any other way points which the preacher 
may regard as essential to a complete comprehension 
of the body of his sermon. Often in pulpit oratory the 
narration is called the exposition. In dealing with a 
subject drawn from biblical history, the topography 
of the country may have to be explained; or the cir- 
cumstances recalled under which the words of a text 
were spoken; or, in an exegetical sermon, some 
account of the interpretations of the most learned 
scholars given; and these offices will usually be per- 
formed in the narration. Still, not in all sermons, any 
more than in all deliberative speeches, is a formal nar- 
ration necessary. A preacher may proceed to his 
divisions or to the first main head of his discourse at 
once, without explanation or amplification, the mean- 
ing of his text being perfectly clear, and the special 
theme requiring no preliminary exposition. 

In forensic oratory, except when a speaker follows a 
colleague or an opponent who has related the essential 
facts, the narration always has great importance. The 
reason for this is manifest enough. Forensic oratory 
has to do exclusively with contentions arising in the 



62 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

past; and, as is evident, before any discussion is possi- 
ble as to the merits of a dispute relating to the past, 
the events leading up to it must be clearly known. 
Hence, in the trial of nearly all cases, much time is 
devoted to the examination of witnesses and the dis- 
covery of facts, to which both judge and jury pay close 
attention. But, because of this, because when the 
time for making the pleas comes the great mass of 
material, which in a wholly comprehensive scheme 
would be included in the narration, is already known, 
the statement of facts in a legal argument may occupy 
no more space than in any other speech. Usually 
all that the advocate will attempt is to revive in the 
minds of the court what he regards as the salient fea- 
tures of the evidence, taking for granted that the more 
adventitious elements have been sufficiently well re- 
membered. Occasionally, however, the whole story 
of the crime or fraud will be recited, an effort being 
made to present the circumstances truthfully but in 
such a way as inevitably to throw weight to one side 
or the other of the contest. When the last expedient 
is adopted, great skill may be shown in selecting the 
proper facts to be introduced, and in presenting them 
in their logical relations; and the fullest opportunity 
is given for graphic, persuasive statement. The im- 
memorial example in ancient literature of a narration 
of this kind is in Cicero's oration for Milo, and in 
modern literature, Webster's argument in the trial of 
Knapp. 

In demonstrative oratory any extended narration is 
scarcely ever needed; the nature of the subjects which 
ordinarily engage the demonstrative orator does not 
demand it. To be sure, it is sometimes said that the 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 63 

biographical sketch in a eulogy should be treated as 
part of the narration; but the reasoning upon which 
such an opinion is based is purely sophistical. The 
narrative of the life in a biographical eulogy is a dis- 
tinct part of the discussion; it does not have the func- 
tion of the narration in an expository discourse, which 
is to clear the path for what follows. The same is 
true of the commemorative address, which deals 
chiefly with incidents; the recounting of the events 
belongs to the discussion, not to the narration. Al- 
though, of course, when incidents are recalled solely 
for the purpose of rendering intelligible an exposition 
which follows, they belong to the narration. 

From what has now been said the student may have 
observed on his own account that, apart from its use in 
forensic speeches, the chief use of the narration is that 
of definition. When, to illustrate, the speaker makes 
clear, for the purpose of debate, the present condition 
of coast defenses, he is doing no more than defining 
that term of the proposition; when he describes the 
improvements desired, he defines the word " in- 
creased " ; and nearly always in deliberative, pulpit, 
and demonstrative oratory does this rule hold, that 
the definition of the terms in a broad sense will include 
about all the narration necessary. Certain it is that 
the best guide to follow in determining what a narra- 
tion should contain is to take up separately each term 
of the proposition or subject, and to ask whether any- 
thing about it requires explanation. Does the audi- 
ence understand not only the usual interpretation, but 
the one to be maintained in this precise discourse? If 
not, then the special meaning should be expounded. 
It has been before remarked that an audience should 



64 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

never be left in the slightest doubt as to just what a 
speaker wishes to convey; and the place where this 
explanation can generally best be made is in the 
narration. 

The last rule, however, is not always to be accepted; 
sometimes the narration does not follow the introduc- 
tion; instead of being thus introduced it is scattered 
throughout the discourse. Instances where this 
method is adopted are found in speeches of all kinds. 
In a sermon, for example, the speaker may consider 
separately the several phrases of his text, explaining 
and commenting on each fully before passing to the 
next. Here, then, the narration will be made in three 
or four different places. The same may occur in de- 
liberative oratory when it is proposed to change an 
existing institution for a new one; the present insti- 
tution may be fully brought out and enlarged upon 
before anything is said about the scheme which is to 
supersede it. That is, one half of the narration, the 
exposition of the existing system, would be placed after 
the introduction; one half, the exposition of the pro- 
posed system, would be placed in the middle of the 
discussion. There is, furthermore, in questions of the 
kind just spoken of, still another reason why the narra- 
tion might be placed elsewhere than at the beginning. 
In such questions certain facts are likely to be equally 
essential both as narration and as argument. The 
definition of an existing system might also include a 
statement of asserted evils, because of which a change 
is to be made; such a statement being justified in the 
narration as an exposition of present conditions. But 
these same facts might likewise be a very important 
part of the argument in favor of the scheme proposed. 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 65 

Hence the question may arise where such facts can 
best be placed; should they be put after the introduc- 
tion, or passed by until the discussion proper has been 
reached? The answer to this, as to other similar ques- 
tions, can never be made absolutely. There are un- 
doubtedly a great many cases in which at least part 
of the narration had better be reserved until the time 
to make use of it in the discussion arrives; but more 
often, we may say, the beginning of the address is the 
place for it. Here, to be sure, it may stand out with 
unfortunate prominence, and unless dexterously 
handled, make the work a bit mechanical ; but then the 
likelihood that any part of the speech will not be com- 
prehended is as far as possible avoided. 

The three rhetorical qualities which have always 
been regarded as essential in a narration are clearness, 
conciseness, and truthfulness. The facts must be 
placed before an audience with absolute lucidity; their 
relation and bearing on the general question made 
perfectly evident. So far, too, as is consistent with 
clearness, conciseness must be aimed for. The 
speaker must not forget that the narration is really a 
preliminary part and must not occupy the minds of his 
audience longer than is necessary. Time spent here, 
in so far as additional attention is demanded, may 
militate against the success of what follows. Tech- 
nically less evident, perhaps, at first glance, but equally 
important, is the last stipulation of truthfulness and 
probability. In the narration the speaker is stating 
facts which all must agree to. While exaggeration 
and over-insistence may be permitted in the profes- 
sedly biased argument, in the narration these qualities 
have no place at all. Not only, too, should the facts 



66 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

be accurate, but they should be incontrovertible; for 
to provoke discussion on questions of definition is to 
drive the argument entirely out of its proper channel. 
Indeed, one of the most skillful of all methods of argu- 
mentation is to state the circumstances so impartially 
that they will be as acceptable for one side as for the 
other. The value of such a method is in conciliation. 
Nothing will more quickly win a judge from the atti- 
tude of opposition in which he instinctively places him- 
self when a speaker, avowedly an advocate, begins, 
than an eminently fair and unbiased exposition. 

In not a great many instances does the narration 
furnish much chance for play upon the emotions; con- 
ciseness and clearness, as has been remarked, rather 
than elegance or beauty are the important ends. The 
exception to this is where the facts on which an argu- 
ment is based are, in themselves, exceedingly dra- 
matic and vivid, and where their recital in a dramatic 
way will clearly add force to the whole presentation. 
Then the imagination may be let loose and all the 
arts of splendid rhetoric called into play. But such 
instances, outside the field of forensic oratory, are not 
many; generally the narration is a subdued though in- 
cisive part of the oration, vigorous perhaps, but not 
necessarily impassioned. 

X. THE PARTITION. 

The partition, the purpose of which is to indicate the 
method of treatment to be adopted in a discourse, is 
another division not to be found in all orations. In 
classic oratory, and, in spite of the criticisms heaped 
upon it by so influential a writer as the Archbishop of 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 67 

Cambray, in much modern oratory a partition of some 
sort is usually to be noted. But in the last half cen- 
tury, owing no doubt to the wholesome trend toward 
simplicity and inartificiality in all writing and speak- 
ing, its use has been much less general; and to-day it 
is rarely to be observed even in the work of the most 
careful speakers. 

The advantages and disadvantages of a partition, 
and the characteristics of a good one, are the impor- 
tant things to be spoken of here; although, before do- 
ing so, it may be well to show a little more clearly just 
what a partition is, first in narrative and expository 
addresses, and second in arguments; for the purpose 
is scarcely the same in each. 

In expository discourses, — that is, in demonstrative 
and in the burden of pulpit oratory, — the partition is 
an enumeration of the various points a speaker wishes 
to treat of. It is introduced after the preliminary ex- 
planations have been made and just before the discus- 
sion proper begins. The points are most frequently 
stated clearly and intelligibly in a single paragraph, 
as is the case in the following example taken from the 
oration on the Law of Human Progress by Charles 
Sumner (who, as is rather interesting to note, is the 
last important orator to use a partition with any regu- 
larity). After a few preliminary pages Sumner says: 

" The subject is vast as it is interesting and impor- 
tant. It might well occupy a volume, rather than a 
brief discourse. In unfolding it, I shall speak first of 
the History of the Law, as seen in its origin, gradual 
development, and recognition, — and next of its charac- 
ter, conditions, and limitations, with the duties it en- 
joins and the encouragement it affords." 



68 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

This is a partition of two heads, indicating the gen- 
eral direction which the discourse will take, and of 
some minor points which show how the chief divisions 
will be handled. Except, however, as they remove in 
a certain way the baldness which would arise from a 
plain statement of the two main heads, the subheads, 
since they are likely soon to be forgotten, have no 
great value and could be omitted without disturbing 
the structure of the oration. What is more important 
to note about this kind of partition is that it indicates 
a perfectly arbitrary method of treatment. The orator, 
had he chosen, might have touched the subject from 
half a dozen other, and different, points of view. For 
reasons known only to himself he selected the one 
phrased in this excerpt, and to this he directed the 
attention of his hearers. 

In forensic speeches this is not the case. The 
partition no longer shows how the speaker, con- 
trolled only by taste, and certain exigencies of the 
occasion, will take up his topic; it is the statement 
of the necessary and inevitable points which, if 
proved, will prove the question. The difference is 
very great. In an expository address the speaker has 
a wide latitude of treatment permitted him; his di- 
visions may not be at all exhaustive, that is, without 
impairing the weight or agreeableness of his discourse, 
he may cover no more than a corner of his subject; 
and his audience will, in all probability, pay very 
slight attention either to the exactness or scientific- 
ness of his method, so long as it is not absolutely bad. 
But not so in argument. In an argument a speaker is 
confined within very rigid lines; his divisions must 
completely and conclusively cover his question; and, 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 69 

unless his audience and his opponent accept his par- 
tition as the proper and logical one, he need go no 
further, for what he says will be fruitless. In the 
one case the division is taken arbitrarily and some- 
what casually, in the other logically and inevitably; 
this is the difference between the partition of an ex- 
position and the partition of an argument. 

Nov/, just how in the last instance, in the argu- 
ment, the speaker shall proceed to get the divisions, 
or, as they may more technically be called, the issues 
of his question, is worthy of a word of explanation. 
Under the head of forensic oratory the statement was 
made that the first step in preparing any argument is 
to make an analysis of the question in order to dis- 
cover the chief, the essential, points in it. By such an 
analysis, the speaker will find that both the affirmative 
and negative sides will agree upon certain facts, which 
may at once be excluded from any consideration; and 
he will also learn that there are certain other facts 
which, though usually associated with the question, 
have no real bearing upon it, and which may also be 
excluded by simply showing that they are extraneous. 
The result is that by this process the question can be 
narrowed down to two or three or perhaps more issues 
which will form the divisions of the oration, and about 
which all the discussion will center. Both sides ad- 
mitting these issues, according to the way they are 
proved, the verdict will go. 

The following passage, taken from a speech of Wen- 
dell Phillips, in favor of the abolition of capital punish- 
ment, is an excellent illustration of the method of 
rinding the issues by exclusion and argument, and 
incidentally of the difference between partition in 



7o THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

argumentation and partition in exposition. The 
speaker says: 

" In the first place, Mr. Chairman, what is the ob- 
ject of all punishment, in a civil community? Of 
course, it is not to revenge any act committed. The 
idea of revenge is to be separated from the idea of 
punishment, when we speak of capital punishment, 
or any other punishment, in civil society. Neither 
can it be said that punishment is the penalty of sin, 
properly speaking; that is, sin in the eye of God, where 
an individual — a conscious, responsible individual — 
commits a wrong act with a wrong motive. Society 
has nothing to do with motive; society punishes acts. 
Strictly speaking, therefore, the word punishment 
ought never to be used in this connection. Punish- 
ment belongs only to that Being who can fathom the 
heart and find out motives. 

" Now, there are two objects that society has in in- 
flicting penalties — that is the proper word, not ' pun- 
ishment.' According to Lord Brougham, in his 
letter to Lord Lyndhurst on this very topic, these 
objects are — first, to prevent the individual offender 
from ever repeating his offense; and second, to deter 
others from imitating his offense. The primary ob- 
ject of all government is protection, — protection to 
persons and property. That protection is to be 
gained in two ways, — by taking the individual mur- 
derer, or the individual thief, and by putting him to 
death, or shutting him up, to prevent his recommitting 
his offense; and by so arranging the penalty on that 
man as to deter others from imitating his example. 

" Well, we come to the penalty of the gallows, — the 
taking away of life. In the first place, — to look at it 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 71 

abstractly, — is it necessary in order to restrain the 
murderer, or to deter others from imitating him? It 
manifestly is not necessary to restrain the murderer; 
because society is now so settled in its arrangements, 
so perfectly stereotyped in its shape and form, that 
you can put a man between four walls and keep him 
there his whole life. No man will pretend before this 
committee that that part of the object of penalty which 
would prevent the man from repeating his offense 
obliges you to take his life. You can shut him up 
just as securely in a prison as in a grave. It is not 
necessary, then, to restrain the criminal; nobody pre- 
tends it. 

" Is it necessary for the simple purpose of deterring 
others from like offenses? Will the taking of the 
man's life deter others from following in his steps? 
That is the only question that remains." 

Here the reader will have observed how the parti- 
tion, instead of being taken arbitrarily, is, throughout, 
a piece of logical exclusion. First the speaker shows 
that two ideas, those of revenge and punishment, 
sometimes associated with the topic, are really extra- 
neous, and should have no place. On the contrary, 
the only two objects for which penalties are given are, 
to prevent the individual offender from repeating his 
offense, and to deter others; and, furthermore, there 
are only two ways by which these ends can be accom- 
plished — by death and by imprisonment. Taking up 
the first, it is evident that death is not necessary to pre- 
vent repetition by the present offender; the question 
is, therefore, is it necessary to deter others? The flaw 
in reasoning here will probably be observed by even 
the inexpert dialectician; and no one would be likely 



72 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

to affirm that enough evidence is introduced in sup- 
port of the different propositions. Nevertheless the 
example is a thoroughly good one for the present pur- 
pose. It illustrates the care which must be taken with 
the partition in argumentation as opposed to exposi- 
tion. In exposition the speaker might have said that 
he proposed to treat the subject from the point of view 
of the influence of the death penalty in preventing 
others from committing crimes; and all the evidence 
brought out in the present speech might have been 
used. But the question would not have been proved. 
The audience would not have seen that by proving 
this one point, the entire contention of the affirmative 
was substantiated. This is why the logical partition is 
necessary in argument. One must show that the 
points that one discusses are the points, and the only 
points, on which the question turns. In other words 
one must frequently prove what one is to prove. 

Thus far we have considered the partition as enter- 
ing into and forming a distinct and essential part of 
every spoken discourse. Such, however, as has al- 
ready been hinted, is not always the case. Although 
no discourse ever ought to be composed or spoken 
without a rigid and definite partition existing in the 
speaker's mind, there are many reasons, some of them 
of a good deal of weight, why the divisions should not 
be formally stated and made known to the audience. 
In the first place, there are certain occasions when the 
speaker wishes wholly to conceal the object of his dis- 
course, and when to make a partition would be abso- 
lutely fatal; the funeral oration of Antony in Julius 
Ccesar is the classic example of this. It is, further- 
more, true that a partition tends to make an address 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 73 

stiff and awkward, to take away the appearance of 
spontaneity, and in some degree to qualify and miti- 
gate the effect of appeals to the passions. A speech 
may be made too cut and dried; the audience, knowing- 
all that is coming, and having no goad of expectancy 
to keep their interest aroused, may wait for one divi- 
sion to be completed and another entered upon as the 
weary traveler watches for the milestones in a tedi- 
ous journey. All this is unquestionably true; and in 
these days when the chief characteristic of speaking 
both as regards matter and manner is sincerity and 
naturalness, the tendency is more and more to omit 
partitions. 

And yet, there is much, rather more in fact, to be 
said on the opposite side. Both Cicero and Quin- 
tilian, and most rhetorical writers, have strongly urged 
the value of the statement of the divisions as an im- 
mense assistance not only to the listener but to the 
speaker. When the speaker would, as it were, wan- 
der, on the one hand, into flowery fields, or, on the 
other, into arid sands of extraneous excursions, the 
divisions are likely to keep him in the proper path; 
they will act as bits checking him when he would de- 
part from his thoughtfully conceived, previously 
wrought structure. To the listener, also, they are 
often of incalculable service. No matter how price- 
less the treasures of a museum may be, unless they are 
properly catalogued and placarded, although they may 
attract a passing glance, they can make no very defi- 
nite or lasting impression on the mind of a visitor. 
So, the divisions show to the audience exactly where 
the speaker is, what he intends to do, and how he will 
do it. They make the address clear and easily appre- 



74 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

hended; and clearness is the first requisite of all writ- 
ing and speaking. Particularly, therefore, when the 
object of a speech is to give important information, 
that is, in deliberative or forensic oratory, a formal 
partition should in most cases be announced; and it 
should always be announced when there is any reason 
to believe that the method adopted will not otherwise 
be readily comprehended. 

The characteristics of a good partition are that the 
divisions shall be few, brief, intelligible, and exclu- 
sive; and, in argument, in addition to these, exhaustive 
and conclusive. The best number of divisions for the 
ordinary discourse is, perhaps, three, although as 
many as five are permissible; and sometimes in foren- 
sic speeches, the whole question can be made to turn 
on a single point, which is very desirable. More than 
five divisions are likely to bewilder an audience; they 
cannot be easily grasped as a whole or retained in the 
mind. Furthermore, each division should be brief 
and concise, occupying not more than a line or two; 
and this again because a short, terse statement is much 
more easily fastened upon than one longer and more 
involved. Of course the divisions must be set forth 
simply, lucidly, and intelligibly. By exclusive is 
meant that there shall be no overlapping, a fault that 
is not uncommon. For instance, it would be wrong to 
divide a question into three such heads as : the theoreti- 
cal side, the practical side, the situation in New York 
State; for the last is included in the other two. To 
make such a division as wisdom, expediency, history, 
and justice is also faulty, for these terms are not logi- 
cally correlative. In argument, as has already been 
said, exhaustiveness and conclusiveness are the prime 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 75 

requisites of a partition. The question must not only 
be covered, but covered in such a way as to permit of 
neither dissent nor controversy. 

In conclusion, then, we may say that the partition 
is often a very serviceable part of an oration, and, on 
theoretical grounds at least, may always be defended. 
But, in practice, the custom, we must acknowledge, is 
largely to do away with it, and by its omission to make 
the structure of an oration as little mechanical as pos- 
sible. The question which each speaker must deter- 
mine for himself is whether the result thus secured is 
adequate compensation for the clearness which is 
likely to be sacrificed. 

XI. THE DISCUSSION. 

Although each of the foregoing divisions — the in- 
troduction, the narration, and the partition — has 
been treated with some fullness, the writer has been 
careful to point out that none of them is absolutely 
essential to any discourse; an introduction is, indeed, 
usually to be found; the other parts are rare. But in 
the case of the discussion, the division now before us, 
the reverse of this is true; the discussion is an essen- 
tial part; in fact it is the only essential part in an ora- 
tion. Everything that precedes this is explication and 
preparation; here we enter upon the real purpose and 
object of the speaker. 

Ancient rhetoricians were much more successful 
than moderns have been in indicating what the discus- 
sion should contain. No one, nowadays, seriously 
pretends to give rules for the contents of speeches; it 
is generally recognized that however much can be 



76 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

done in perfecting form, that is, the method of ar- 
ranging ideas, nothing very valuable can he said by 
anyone as to how these ideas shall be procured. 
The ancients, however, were of an opinion much to the 
contrary. Their treatises not only gave rules for the 
construction, but for the discovery of the material 
which an address should contain. Such rules, which 
are said to have been the invention of Greek sophists, 
were called " topics," and were divided into two 
classes, internal and external, the former being de- 
rived from the immediate subject, the latter from an- 
terior sources. Besides the general topics, there were 
topics peculiar to the different forms of oratory; as, 
in deliberative oratory, special rules were given for 
advocating or condemning causes of certain kinds; 
and in demonstrative oratory, schemes showing how 
a person or thing might be praised or censured. Of 
course these topics deserve all the scorn that has been 
cast upon them by latter-day writers; ideas cannot be 
made to order; and yet this whole subject, so fully 
treated by Cicero, is full of interest, as showing the 
thought and attention that were once devoted to the 
science of speech-making. 

What little there is of real value to be said under the 
head of the discussion may be stated, as was done 
under partition, first with reference to the expository, 
and second with reference to the argumentative ad- 
dress. In touching both of these forms one of the 
chief points to be noticed is the method of arranging 
the ideas of a speech. In an expository oration the 
ordinary plan for securing climax is followed: the de- 
velopment is from the weaker to the stronger, from 
the less to the more intense. Beginning smoothly 



THE THEORY OE ORATORY. 77 

and easily, without extraordinary emphasis or gestic- 
ulation, the orator should gradually work up to the 
moving portion of what he has to say. In a majority 
of cases, too, more than one climax should be made; 
there ought to be several summits, after the attain- 
ment of which the speaker returns quietly to the vales, 
again to begin simply and easily a new division of 
his work. It is, however, much more common to find 
too many instead of too few climaxes; or else to find 
no climax at all, the address being placed on a high 
key at the beginning, and maintained there through- 
out. At first, such a method may seem forcible and 
convincing, but the impression does not last long; in- 
terest soon gives way to neglect; monotony is fol- 
lowed by inattention. Light and shade are among the 
most essential qualities of an oration, but they are 
qualities which few speakers, even those of experience, 
have wholly mastered. The moderate use of the 
strongest appeal following graceful, winning passages 
of little intensity; the whole carefully modulated; the 
climaxes skillfully worked up—these are the character- 
istics of the greatest orations. But too often in their 
place we have a single appeal of uniform emphasis, or 
else a series of explosions, weak and tiresome in their 
frequency and in the wholesale lack of judgment and 
feeling which they display. 

It would, however, be manifestly unfair to infer 
from this that appeals to the emotions, which are the 
end of all great oratory, can be regulated with geo- 
metrical precision; that, after the gentler methods of 
speech have been exhausted, the passions can be 
turned on to give spice and adornment to the tale. 
Appeals to the emotions must be spontaneous, and 



7& THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

must arise directly and naturally from the subject it- 
self, or they will be wholly inapt. To manage fervid 
parts artificially is to destroy their force and purpose. 
At the same time, the orator must have a keen appre- 
ciation for effects, and must deal with them just as 
coolly and as scientifically as the painter or composer; 
his imagination and passion must no more be let run 
riot than theirs, for, in either case, chaos is the inevi- 
table result. The speaker has at his command certain 
means by which his ends are produced; these he must 
use thoughtfully and with discretion; he must see that 
certain ideas can be introduced much more effectively 
in one place than in another; and he must be able to 
lead up to these ideas, so as to bring out their whole 
beauty and power. But all this, by the accomplished 
speaker, can be done without imparting to his work 
the appearance of studied arrangement. The juxta- 
position and the massing of thoughts and facts may 
have been hit upon only after repeated efforts, but the 
result may be so harmonious and natural as to seem 
wholly unsought for. It is not care-taking structure 
that mars an oration; it is the undue evidence of the 
labor; the art which is no more than artificiality. 

Some writers in dealing with the oration justify, as 
a kind of .subdivision, what is known as the excursus. 
The excursus may be placed after any one of the pre- 
liminary parts, or in the discussion. Its function is 
to give the orator the chance to say anything he 
may wish under a head not at once derivable from 
his topic; here, if he will soon return to resume the 
plan of his discourse, he may wander for a moment in 
foreign fields. The whole notion of an excursus in 
speaking is pernicious. If an idea belongs to a topic, 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 79 

and by being introduced will lend interest and thor- 
oughness to the treatment, it should be made a regular 
part of the oration; if it cannot be brought in thus it 
should be omitted entirely. It must contribute directly 
to the development, or, however beautiful and striking 
in itself it may be, it should have no place. The be- 
fogging of the audience, the turning of their minds 
from the regular channel of the speech, does far more 
harm than can be retrieved by supervenient observa- 
tions no matter how profound. In too many speeches 
there are parts which a careful editor, having his mind 
only on the effect produced, can strike out bodily, 
without in the least disturbing the structure or de- 
stroying the continuity of the thought. 

In dealing with the discussion in an argumentative 
address, a little more definite treatment is possible, and 
some slight reversal of the rules laid down is neces- 
sary. The discussion of an argument constitutes the 
proof. The preliminary parts have explained and de- 
fined the question and made its bearing clear; in the 
partition the exact points at issue have been deter- 
mined; now comes the proof of the issues. Each di- 
vision is taken up separately and in order, and, so far 
as is possible, proved one way or another. The evi- 
dence, the facts which the speaker in the course of his 
reading and cogitation has chanced upon, are placed 
under appropriate heads and subheads; the ideas are 
marshaled one after another with cogency and force; 
nothing is left unsaid that will tend toward abso- 
lute conviction in the minds of the audience. The dis- 
cussion is the scientific demonstration, by means of 
argument and evidence, of the points in dispute. 

This demonstration is, moreover, usually the result 



80 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

of two different processes : proof may be either direct, 
the statement of affirmative points; or indirect, the 
statement of points in answer to arguments advanced 
by an opponent — that is, refutation. Cicero, it will be 
remembered, made a division of proof with reference 
to these classes, calling direct proof, confirmation, and 
indirect proof, confutation. Although it is unneces- 
sary, and, since the two blend so constantly into each 
other, a little unwise to distinguish between them thus, 
the expert in argumentation never forgets that one is 
almost as important as the other. No matter how valid 
may be a series of arguments on one side, their force 
can be totally destroyed by a single unanswered point 
on the other; and in such a situation much more will be 
gained by replying to the negative point, even incon- 
clusively, than by dwelling throughout on affirmative 
issues. Refutation, furthermore, goes deep into the 
very roots of argument. A speaker may be called 
upon not only to meet assertions directed against the 
main contentions of his case, but each subsidiary idea 
that he introduces in support of the main conten- 
tions may also be the object of attack. The value of 
the evidence may be controverted; what a point proves 
may be disputed; and before these ideas can be ranged 
in proper support of the main issues, the speaker may 
be obliged to undertake very elaborate refutation in 
their behalf. Few characteristics are more essential 
for the orator than the faculty to see just where his 
advances are to be encountered and how he can meet 
and overcome the attacks. 

The arrangement of a forensic oration is frequently 
different from that of an expository address. In an 
expository address, as was said, the law of climax is 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 51 

usually followed; the development is from the less to 
the greater. But in the argument the more impor- 
tant points can often be placed advantageously first. 
Sometimes the opening division may be one in direct 
argument, sometimes one in refutation. The rule is 
that whenever any point in refutation is so emphatic 
as to impede, until it is answered, the affirmative argu- 
ment, it should be placed first; otherwise it should be 
brought in toward the end. The reason for putting 
the stronger points at the beginning is that they pro- 
duce here their greatest effect; after a predisposition 
has been gained, weaker arguments can be brought 
out and weaker refutation used without so materially 
damaging the case. There has always been much dis- 
cussion as to the value of stating, either in direct argu- 
ment or in refutation, points which cannot be fully 
proved. Some have maintained that such points 
should be omitted altogether; others that they should 
be placed as tactfully as possible and made the most 
of. Certainly, when inconclusive propositions are em- 
ployed, the best place for them is where their insuffi- 
ciency will be least noticed, preferably in the middle 
of the speech, between two ideas which carry greater 
conviction. The moment of doubt will thus be de- 
layed by what precedes, and safe ground will be 
reached before the element of uncertainty has long 
worked. 

The question of what in the fullest sense constitutes 
proof is one rather too intricate and difficult to enter 
upon here, and may be dismissed with the mere indi- 
cation of the two general divisions into which the sub- 
ject falls. These divisions are: argument and evi- 
dence. Argument is that form of demonstration 



82 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

which the speaker draws from his own mind, and its 
value depends on the common experience of the hear- 
ers and the reputation of the speaker. If the one who 
makes the statement is an authority on the subject, 
his words have weight just to the extent that his 
authority is recognized and his veracity unquestioned. 
If he is not an expert, the value of what he says de- 
pends wholly on common experience; if it commends 
itself to the audience it will be effective; otherwise not. 
The character and intelligence of an audience thus de- 
termine, to a considerable degree, the worth of argu- 
ment; what a scientific body would accept unhesitat- 
ingly might be wholly inadequate before a popular 
assembly. 

The second form of proof is that of evidence; not 
what the speaker extracts from his own mind, but 
what he gathers from the writings and words of others. 
And the test of evidence is the same as one of the tests 
of argument : the authority of the person or work from 
whence the matter is derived. The chance saying re- 
ported by a newspaper is of infinitely less value as 
evidence than the same statement made by the same 
person in a public report or printed review. Where, 
when, and by whom, are the questions on which the 
reliability of proof rests. To make a quotation or to 
cite figures is not enough; an audience must be told 
by whom, and under what conditions, the words were 
uttered, and whether the figures are from a reliable 
document or are those hastily compiled from un- 
authorized sources. This faculty of bringing out the 
character of evidence lies at the bottom of all con- 
vincing argumentation. 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 83 



XII. THE CONCLUSION. 

The only division of the oration that now remains 
to be spoken of is the conclusion, often called the per- 
oration. The purpose of the conclusion is usually rec- 
ognized to be twofold: to recapitulate, and to arouse 
the passions. Aristotle, whose analyses are generally 
so penetrating, did indeed add to these two other func- 
tions: that of rendering the hearers favorable to the 
speaker and ill-disposed to his adversary, and that of 
amplification and extenuation; but the first may 
rightly be regarded as a part of the general purpose 
of arousing the passions; while the last is purely 
factitious. 

A conclusion with a summary is found particularly 
in forensic and deliberative orations, sometimes in ser- 
mons, but rarely in demonstrative efforts. Thus it 
pertains to orations of the argumentative rather than 
the narrative or expository type. The summary is the 
recapitulation of the cardinal points which have been 
touched upon in a discourse. The speaker goes back 
to the issues and restates the case again briefly, dwell- 
ing as well on the contentions of his opponent as upon 
the facts advanced by himself d rectly. The object is 
to refresh the memory of the audience, to enforce the 
essential parts, and to leave a convincing impression. 
Only the important ideas, however, those on which the 
two sides clash, need be regarded with much care; 
and all new matter, since it tends to divert the 
attention from the retrospection, should be excluded. 
The points which are reviewed should not be recalled 
simply in the same phrases in which they were first 
mentioned, for this is exceedingly tiresome; they 



84 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

should be presented with some freshness and variety, 
although the audience should never be led to regard 
them as something new. 

The other purpose of the conclusion, to make a 
final appeal to the emotions, is now hardly ever omit- 
ted, although in classic oratory there was much di- 
vergence in the practice. In Athens, in a forensic 
discourse, a direct appeal was not countenanced; the 
speaker had to confine himself scrupulously to a logi- 
cal demonstration. In Rome, on the other hand, so 
unrestricted was the use of the pathetic that all sorts 
of ingenious devices could be called into service. The 
weeping children of the prisoner on trial, the wounds 
of the victim, the implements with which the act was 
committed, might be brought forward by the advocate 
to engage sympathy and to secure the verdict. Now- 
adays, of course, such perversions of argument are 
permitted neither in the conclusion nor in the other 
parts of the oration; the speaker has no means except 
words at his command. The underlying purpose or 
idea of the speech is the one to be insisted upon in the 
final appeal. If the object is to secure a certain ver- 
dict, or to lead men to vote in a certain way, the 
thoughts and feelings which have been most in ques- 
tion must be dwelt upon; if it was the teachings of a 
noble life or a great event that has formed the subject, 
the essence of the principle which the orator wishes to 
inculcate must have place. Whatever is the impres- 
sion to be conveyed, whatever is the end to be accom- 
plished — this should form the burden, the motive of 
the conclusion. 

In no other part of the oration does the orator have 
so great an opportunity to prove his genius and his 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 85 

eloquence as in the conclusion. In the introduction 
he is frequently hampered by the newness of his 
theme and the lack of any real sympathy on the part 
of his audience; in the body of the address he must be 
busy maintaining his thesis and elaborating his evi- 
dence; but in the conclusion no such limitations are 
possible. The whole speech has been given to pre- 
pare the hearers for this part; the speaker's skill as a 
logician and philosopher has been fully demon- 
strated; he is now entirely free for whatever flight his 
ability may permit. The incentive, too, which urges 
him is greater at this than at any other time. In a 
moment the jury will retire, the vote on the bill will be 
taken, the cause will go forth to ride on the great sea 
of public opinion, unsupported by any further 
words. Well, therefore, may power and ingenuity be 
exerted to the utmost; well may the peroration be the 
sublimest part of the work. 

Never should the conclusion be much prolonged. 
The speech proper is finished; this is the parting word; 
and, like all parting words, it should not be amplified 
or repeated. To hold an audience when they are in 
this state of expectancy is not only to vex them; it may 
seriously endanger the effect of the whole oration. 
All that is said should be brief and to the point; as 
striking and impelling as possible; but never so 
long as to lose for a moment the attention of a single 
hearer. 

XIII. THE PREPARATION OF SPEECHES.-^ 

Nearly every speaker, very early in his career, 
adopts some method which he follows in the prepara- 
tion of his work. These methods, as is perfectly 



86 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

natural, owing to many differences in temperament, 
in training, and in mental habits, are often widely di- 
vergent: what one man finds exceedingly helpful may 
be to another laborious and unfruitful; and so, only 
with caution can anyone write of the best, or even a 
profitable plan for another to pursue in the making of 
a speech. Still, some observation has shown that a 
great number of public speakers in performing the 
same task go about it in much the same way; and a 
brief statement of what this way is seems worthy of a 
place here. 

Manifestly the first requisite in the making of a 
speech is to secure a topic; but, as this part of the 
preparation has already received some attention above, 
it need not be enlarged upon now. Granted a topic, 
the next step is to procure material. Perhaps as good 
a way as any to begin is for the speaker to meditate 
long and earnestly on his subject, in order to recall 
all the ideas that he has upon it. These ideas should 
then be placed on a sheet of paper, which for many 
days after should be kept near at hand to receive 
other and possibly more important points, that have 
before eluded discovery. The purpose is to evolve as 
much as can be from within, for although there is little 
positive guarantee that suggestions derived in this 
manner will be original, they are more than likely to 
bear the personal stamp which is so highly desirable. 
When the stock of his own ideas has been exhausted, 
the speaker may turn to seek inspiration from other 
sources. He will, in all probability, go at once to 
literature; but he will do well to avoid books and arti- 
cles bearing directly upon his theme; rather, he will 
peruse such matter as will furnish food for reflection, 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 87 

not that which he might make use of with little 
change. Thus, if he is to discuss the career of Wash- 
ington, a good history of the Revolution and the 
period following it will better suit his purpose than a 
critical biography of the great man. The reading of 
books of the former class will get the mind to working 
in sympathetic channels and will furnish data from 
which original observations and generalizations can be 
drawn, but it will not prove a source of vexation or 
temptation. To be sure, if biographical or historical 
matter is to be incorporated, the best authorities may 
at once be consulted and freely drawn upon; for the 
orator cannot be expected to work as the historian, 
gleaning all his facts first-hand. But, aside from such 
cases, reading should principally be for the purpose of 
suggestion. 

The reading having been accomplished and a con- 
siderable body of notes and observations having been 
brought together, the next step is to select the ideas 
which shall be used, and to arrange them. For this 
purpose the speaker can best provide himself with a 
number of sheets of paper, each of which will repre- 
sent a given part of the oration. One slip will be 
labeled introduction, another narration, and so on 
until all the parts have been cared for. Turning then 
to his jottings, he will go through them very carefully 
a number of times, and such points as he thinks well 
of he will transfer to the slip of paper to which it be- 
longs. A miniature brief will thus be constructed; 
the general divisions and the ideas which may be 
amplified under them will begin to be evident. But 
just here it will probably be apparent that some points 
which before seemed of slight importance could, if 



88 THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

fuller treatment were given them, be made of greater 
value; in other words, that more reading and thought 
along certain lines is necessary. So the steps may 
have to be retraced, and further time expended before 
the outlines of the work seem wholly satisfactory. 

The only other duty that remains is to put the ora- 
tion into its final form ; and this is where the individual 
preference of speakers differs most widely. In gen- 
eral there are three forms into which a speech may be 
cast before being delivered: it may be wholly written 
and committed to memory; none of it may be written 
or learned; parts of it may be written and learned 
and parts spoken extemporaneously. Usually speak- 
ers begin with the first method; many learn to follow 
the second; while the last is probably the best of the 
three. 

At the outset nearly every neophyte has to learn 
his speeches by heart. Confidence must be acquired; 
attention must be devoted to the manner of delivery; 
the chance of not saying what one wished to say can- 
not be risked; and hence the discourse is written out 
and learned by heart, as is perfectly proper it should 
be. The ancients nearly always did this, and the culti- 
vation of the memory was formerly a part of nearly 
every orator's training and qualifications. But if 
there were any danger that this method would now be 
followed by a very great number of men a slight cau- 
tion against it would be in place. In reality it puts 
the speaker at a great disadvantage; audiences do 
not care for a memorized speech, and only by the 
most consummate art can they be deceived. Further- 
more, the speaker whose address is written is pre- 
vented from taking advantage of suggestions of the 



THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 89 

moment; from meeting retort with retort; from weav- 
ing together subtly his own arguments and his reply 
to his opponent; in short, from making the most of 
his opportunities. Especially, therefore, for the de- 
liberative or forensic orator, the habitual use of this 
method is very unfortunate. There is, however, not 
a great deal of danger that many will long follow it; 
the great labor that it imposes is alone sufficient to 
bring its abandonment after a little facility, ease, and 
confidence have been acquired. 

So we come to the second method, which is to 
commit nothing to memory, to rely solely on the con- 
cisely stated outline. The many advantages of being 
able to speak after such preparation are evident: every 
suggestion of the occasion, every frown or ripple that 
passes over the audience may be seized upon and turned 
to good account; that sparkle and glamour of instant 
reply which assemblies so delight in may be indulged in 
to the utmost. And yet, except in the case of unusual 
men, this method, for one who aspires to great oratory, 
probably has less, by a good deal, to commend it than 
any other. The inspiration which such a plan neces- 
sitates is not always forthcoming, and when it is 
absent, platitudes and vacuity only can be hoped for. 
Again, taking a discourse as a whole, not even the 
most gifted person can build so fine a structure with- 
out a pen as with one; writing demands accurate 
thinking; improvised speaking permits and en- 
courages very loose thinking. Separate passages of 
great brilliancy may be struck off at the moment, but 
their power is certain to be diminished by paragraphs 
which are irrelevant and sentences that are impos- 
sible. If anvone wishes to observe the different 



9° THE THEORY OF ORATORY. 

results of careful preparation and extempore speaking, 
let him compare the shorthand reports of an admit- 
tedly extempore effort such as Webster's reply to 
Hayne, and the revision of the same speech which was 
printed a month or so afterward. 

It seems, therefore, that a combination of the two 
preceding plans is, on the whole, the best. Certain 
portions of a speech should nearly always be written 
out: the conclusion, for example; parts of the narra- 
tion, when a precise statement of facts is necessary; 
passages in the discussion. But opportunity should 
also be left for the exigencies of the occasion, for re- 
marking upon passing events, and replying to an 
adversary's contentions. In some kinds of speeches 
more can profitably be written than in others; large 
parts of sermons and demonstrative orations; but 
less of deliberative and forensic efforts. Finally, it 
should be noted that whatever is written and spoken 
from memory should be so blended and interwrought 
with the other parts of the speech that not even the 
most watchful person can detect the different elements 
as they are uttered. Nothing so much destroys the 
harmony of an oration as the curiously incongruous 
result that comes from the protrusion of paragraphs 
prepared in different ways. 



ORATIONS. 



ORATIONS. 



DELIBERATIVE ORATORY. 

CARL SCHURZ. 

Born i82g. 

GENERAL AMNESTY. 

[The following speech was delivered in the United States Senate, 
January 30, 1872, on a bill for removing the political disabilities 
imposed by the third section of the Fourteenth Amendment to the 
Constitution. This section provided that no person should be a 
senator, representative, or presidential elector, or hold any civil or 
military office under the United States or any State, who, as a Federal 
or State officer, had sworn to support the Constitution and had after- 
ward engaged in the Rebellion ; but provision was made that the 
disability could be removed by a two-thirds vote of each House. The 
bill before Congress at this time did not, however, aim to secure 
general amnesty, for three classes of persons were excepted from 
the relief : members who withdrew from Congress and aided the 
Rebellion ; officers, over twenty- one years of age, who left the Army 
and Navy and aided the Rebellion ; and members of State conventions 
who voted for ordinances of secession. The bill, failing to receive 
the necessary two-thirds vote, was defeated. The speech is reprinted, 
with the permission of Mr. Schurz, from the Congressional Globe."\ 

Mr. President, when this debate commenced before 
the holidays, I refrained from taking part in it, and 
from expressing my opinions on some of the provi- 



94 CARL SCHURZ. 

sions of the bill now before us; hoping as I did that 
the measure could be passed without difficulty, and 
that a great many of those who now labor under politi- 
cal disabilities would be immediately relieved. This 
5 expectation was disappointed. An amendment * to 
the bill was adopted. It will have to go back to the 
House of Representatives now unless by some parlia- 
mentary means we get rid of the amendment, and 
there being no inducement left to waive what criti- 

10 cism we might feel inclined to bring forward, we may 
consider the whole question open. 

I beg leave to say that I am in favor of general, or, 
as this word is considered more expressive, universal 
amnesty, believing, as I do, that the reasons which 

15 make it desirable that there should be amnesty granted 
at all, make it also desirable that the amnesty should 
be universal. The senator from South Carolina [Mr. 
Sawyer] has already given notice that he will move to 
strike out the exceptions from the operation of this 

20 act of relief for which the bill provides. If he had not 
declared his intention to that effect, I would do so. 
In any event, whenever he offers his amendment I 
shall most heartily support it. 

In the course of this debate we have listened to 

25 some senators, as they conjured up before our eyes 
once more all the horrors of the Rebellion, the wicked- 
ness of its conception, how terrible its incidents were, 
and how harrowing its consequences. Sir, I admit it 
all; I will not combat the correctness of the picture; 

30 and yet if I differ with the gentlemen who drew it, it is 

*An amendment offered by Senator Morton, providing that the 
act should not relate back and validate the election or appointment of 
persons who were ineligible when elected. 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 95 

because, had the conception of the Rebellion been 
still more wicked, had its incidents been still more 
terrible, its consequences still more harrowing, I could 
not permit myself to forget that in dealing with the 
question now before us we have to deal not alone with 5 
the past, but with the present and future interests of 
this republic. 

What do we want to accomplish as good citizens 
and patriots? Do we mean only to inflict upon the late 
rebel's pain, degradation, mortification, annoyance, for 10 
its own sake; to torture their feelings without any 
ulterior purpose? Certainly such a purpose could not 
by any possibility animate high-minded men. I pre- 
sume, therefore, that those who still favor the continu- 
ance of some of the disabilities imposed by the Four- 15 
teenth Amendment do so because they have some 
higher object of public usefulness in view, an object 
of public usefulness sufficient to justify, in their minds 
at least, the denial of rights to others which we our- 
selves enjoy. 20 

What can those objects of public usefulness be? 
Let me assume that, if we differ as to the means to be 
employed, we are agreed as to the supreme end and 
aim to be reached. That end and aim of our endeavors 
can be no other than to secure to all the States the 25 
blessings of good and free government and the high- 
est degree of prosperity and well-being they can attain, 
and to revive in all citizens of this republic that love 
for the Union and its institutions, and that inspiring 
consciousness of a common nationality, which, after 30 
all, must bind all Americans together. 

What are the best means for the attainment of that 
end? This, sir, as I conceive it, is the only legitimate 



9 6 CARL SCHURZ. 

question we have to decide. Certainly all will agree 
that this end is far from having been attained so far. 
Look at the Southern States as they stand before us 
to-day. Some are in a condition bordering upon an- 
5 archy, not only on account of the social disorders 
which are occurring there, or the inefficiency of their 
local governments in securing the enforcement of the 
laws; but you will find in many of them fearful corrup- 
tion pervading the whole political organization; a 

10 combination of rascality and ignorance wielding offi- 
cial power; their finances deranged by profligate prac- 
tices; their credit ruined; bankruptcy staring them in 
the face; their industries staggering under a fearful 
load of taxation; their property-holders and capital- 

15 ists paralyzed by a feeling of insecurity and distrust 
almost amounting to despair. Sir, let us not try to 
disguise these facts, for the world knows them to be 
so, and knows it but too well. 

What are the causes that have contributed to bring 

20 about this distressing condition? I admit that great 
civil wars, resulting in such vast social transformations 
as the sudden abolition of slavery, are calculated to 
produce similar results ; but it might be presumed that 
a recuperative power such as this country possesses 

25 might, during the time which has elapsed since the 
close of the War, at least have very materially allevi- 
ated many of the consequences of that revulsion, had 
a wise policy been followed. 

Was the policy we followed wise? W r as it calculated 

30 to promote the great purposes we are endeavoring to 
serve? Let us see. At the close of the War we had to 
establish and secure free labor and the rights of the 
emancipated class. To that end we had to disarm 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 97 

those who could have prevented this, and we had to 
give the power of self-protection to those who needed 
it. For this reason temporary restrictions were im- 
posed upon the late rebels, and we gave the right of 
suffrage to the colored people. Until the latter were 5 
enabled to protect themselves, political disabilities 
even more extensive than those which now exist rested 
upon the plea of eminent political necessity. I would 
be the last man to conceal that I thought so then, and 
I think there was very good reason for it. 10 

But, sir, when the enfranchisement of the colored 
people was secured; when they had obtained the po- 
litical means to protect themselves, then another 
problem began to loom up. It was not only to find 
new guarantees for the rights of the colored peo- 15 
pie, but it was to secure good and honest gov- 
ernment to all. Let us not underestimate the 
importance of that problem, for in a great meas- 
ure it includes the solution of the other. Cer- 
tainly nothing could have been more calculated 20 
to remove the prevailing discontent concerning the 
changes that had taken place, and to reconcile men's 
minds to the new order of things, than the tangible 
proof that that new order of things was practically 
working well; that it could produce a wise and eco- 25 
nomical administration of public affairs, and that it 
would promote general prosperity, thus healing the 
wounds of the past and opening to all the prospect of 
a future of material well-being and contentment. 
And, on the other hand, nothing could have been more 30 
calculated to impede a general, hearty, and honest ac- 
ceptance of the new order of things by the late rebel 
population than just those failures of public adminis- 



9 8 CARL SCHURZ. 

tration which involve the people in material embar- 
rassments and so seriously disturb their comfort. In 
fact, good, honest, and successful government in the 
Southern States would in its moral effects, in the long 
5 run, have exerted a far more beneficial influence than 
all your penal legislation, while your penal legis- 
lation will fail in its desired effects if we fail in es- 
tablishing in the Southern States an honest and 
successful administration of the public business. 

10 Now, what happened in the South? It is a well- 
known fact that the more intelligent classes of South- 
ern society almost uniformly identified themselves 
with the Rebellion ; and by our system of political dis- 
abilities just those classes were excluded from the man- 

15 agement of political affairs. That they could not be 
trusted with the business of introducing into living 
practice the results of the War, to establish true free 
labor, and to protect the rights of the emancipated 
slaves, is true; I willingly admit it. But when those 

20 results and rights were constitutionally secured there 
were other things to be done. Just at that period 
when the Southern States lay prostrated and ex- 
hausted at our feet, when the destructive besom of war 
had swept over them and left nothing but desolation 

25 and ruin in its track, when their material interests were 
to be built up again with care and foresight — just 
then the public business demanded, more than ordi- 
narily, the co-operation of all the intelligence and all 
the political experience that could be mustered in the 

30 Southern States. But just then a large portion of that 
intelligence and experience was excluded from the 
management of public affairs by political disabilities, 
and the controlling power in those States rested in a 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 99 

great measure in the hands of those who had but re- 
cently been slaves and just emerged from that 
condition, and in the hands of others who had some- 
times honestly, sometimes by crooked means and for 
sinister purposes, found a way to their confidence. 5 

This was the state of things as it then existed. 
Nothing could be further from my intention than to 
cast a slur upon the character of the colored people of 
the South. In fact, their conduct immediately after 
that great event which struck the shackles of slavery 10 
from their limbs was above praise. Look into the 
history of the world, and you will find that almost 
every similar act of emancipation — the abolition of 
serfdom, for instance — was uniformly accompanied by 
the atrocious outbreaks of a revengeful spirit; by the 15 
slaughter of nobles and their families, illumined by the 
glare of their burning castles. Not so here. While 
all the horrors of San Domingo had been predicted 
as certain to follow upon emancipation, scarcely a sin- 
gle act of revenge for injuries suffered or for misery 20 
endured has darkened the record of the emancipated 
bondmen of America. And thus their example 
stands unrivaled in history, and they, as well as the 
whole American people, may well be proud of it. Cer- 
tainly, the Southern people should never cease to re- 25 
member and appreciate it. 

But while the colored people of the South earned 
our admiration and gratitude, I ask you in all candor 
could they be reasonably expected, when, just after 
having emerged from a condition of slavery, they 30 
were invested with political rights and privileges, 
to step into the political arena as men armed with the 
intelligence and experience necessary for the manage- 



loo CARL SCHURZ. 

ment of public affairs and for the solution of prob- 
lems made doubly intricate by the disasters which had 
desolated the Southern country? Could they reason- 
ably be expected to manage the business of public ad- 
5 ministration, involving to so great an extent the finan- 
cial interests and the material well-being of the people, 
and surrounded by difficulties of such fearful perplex- 
ity, with the wisdom and skill required by the 
exigencies of the situation? That as a class they were 

10 ignorant and inexperienced and lacked a just concep- 
tion of public interests, was certainly not their fault; 
for those who have studied the history of the world 
know but too well that slavery and oppression are 
very bad political schools. But the stubborn fact 

15 remains that they were ignorant and inexperienced; 
that the public business was an unknown world 
to them, and that in spite of the best inten- 
tions they were easily misled, not infrequently 
by the most reckless rascality which had found 

20 a way to their confidence. Thus their political 
rights and privileges were undoubtedly well calcu- 
lated, and even necessary, to protect their rights 
as free laborers and citizens; but they were not well 
calculated to secure a successful administration of 

25 other public interests. 

I do not blame the colored people for it, still less do 
I say that for this reason their political rights and 
privileges should have been denied them. Nay, sir, I 
deemed it necessary then, and I now reaffirm that 

30 opinion, that they should possess those rights and 
privileges for the permanent establishment of the logi- 
cal and legitimate results of the War and the protec- 
tion of their new position in society. But, while never 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 101 

losing sight of this necessity, I do say that the inevi- 
table consequence of the admission of so large an 
uneducated and inexperienced class to political power, 
as to the probable mismanagement of the material in- 
terests of the social body, should at least have been 5 
mitigated by a counterbalancing policy. When igno- 
rance and inexperience were admitted to so large an 
influence upon public affairs, intelligence ought no 
longer to so large an extent to have been excluded. 
In other words, when universal suffrage was granted 10 
to secure the equal rights of all, universal amnesty 
ought to have been granted to make all the resources 
of political intelligence and experience available for 
the promotion of the welfare of all. 

But what did we do? To the uneducated and 15 
inexperienced classes — uneducated and inexperi- 
enced, I repeat, entirely without their fault — we 
opened the road to power; and, at the same time, we 
condemned a large proportion of the intelligence of 
those States, of the property-holding, the industrial, 20 
the professional, the tax-paying interest, to a worse 
than passive attitude. We made it, as it were, easy 
for rascals who had gone South in quest of profitable 
adventure to gain the control of masses so easily mis- 
led, by permitting them to appear as the exponents 25 
and representatives of the national power and of our 
policy; and at the same time we branded a large num- 
ber of men of intelligence, and many of them of per- 
sonal integrity, whose material interests were so largely 
involved in honest government, and many of whom 30 
would have co-operated in managing the public busi- 
ness with care and foresight — we branded them, I say, 
as outcasts; telling them that they ought not to be 



IQ2 CARL SCHURZ. 

suffered to exercise any influence upon the manage- 
ment of the public business, and it would be unwar- 
rantable presumption in them to attempt it. 

I ask you, sir, could such things fail to contribute 
5 to the results we to-day read in the political corruption 
and demoralization, and in the financial ruin of some 
of the Southern States? These results are now before 
us. The mistaken policy may have been pardonable 
when these consequences were still a matter of conjec- 
10 ture and speculation ; but what excuse have we now 
for continuing it when those results are clear before 
our eyes, beyond the reach of contradiction? 

These considerations would seem to apply more 
particularly to those Southern States where the col- 
15 ored element constitutes a very large proportion of the 
voting body. There is another which applies to all. 
When the Rebellion stood in arms against us, we 
fought and overcame force by force. That was right. 
When the results of the War were first to be estab- 
20 lished and fixed, we met the resistance they encoun- 
tered with that power which the fortune of war and the 
revolutionary character of the situation had placed at 
our disposal. The feelings and prejudices which then 
stood in our way had under such circumstances but 
25 little, if any, claim to our consideration. But when 
the problem presented itself of securing the perma- 
nency, the peaceable development, and the successful 
working of the new institutions we had introduced 
into our political organism, we had as wise men to 
30 take into careful calculation the moral forces we had 
to deal with; for let us not indulge in any delusion 
about this : what is to be permanent in a republic like 
this must be supported by public opinion; it must rest 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 103 

at least upon the willing acquiescence of a large and 
firm majority of the people. 

The introduction of the colored people, the late 
slaves, into the body-politic as voters, pointedly 
affronted the traditional prejudices prevailing among 5 
the Southern whites. What should we care about 
those prejudices? In war, nothing. After the close 
of the War, in the settlement of peace, not enough to 
deter us from doing what was right and necessary; 
and yet, still enough to take them into account when 10 
considering the manner in which right and necessity 
were to be served. Statesmen will care about popular 
prejudices as physicians will care about the diseased 
condition of their patients, which they want to amelio- 
rate. Would it not have been wise for us, looking at 15 
those prejudices as a morbid condition of the Southern 
mind, to mitigate, to assuage, to disarm them by pru- 
dent measures, and thus to weaken their evil influence? 
We desired the Southern whites to accept in good 
faith universal suffrage, to recognize the political 20 
rights of the colored man, and to protect him in their 
exercise. Was not that our sincere desire? But if 
it was, would it not have been wise to remove as 
much as possible the obstacles that stood in the way 
of that consummation? But what did we do? When 25 
we raised the colored people to the rights of active 
citizenship and opened to them all the privileges of 
eligibility, we excluded from those privileges a large 
and influential class of whites; in other words, we 
lifted the late slave, uneducated and inexperienced as 30 
he was, — I repeat, without his fault, — not merely to the 
level of the late master class, but even above it. We 
asked certain white men to recognize the colored man 



104 CARL SCHURZ. 

in a political status not only as high but even higher 
than their own. We might say that under the cir- 
cumstances we had a perfect right to do that, and I 
will not dispute it; but I ask you most earnestly, sir, 

5 was it wise to do it? If you desired the white man to 
accept and recognize the political equality of the black, 
was it wise to imbitter and exasperate his spirit with 
the stinging stigma of his own inferiority? Was it 
wise to withhold from him privileges in the enjoyment 

io of which he was to protect the late slave? This was 
not assuaging, disarming prejudice; this was rather 
inciting, it was exasperating it. American statesmen 
will understand and appreciate human nature as it 
has developed itself under the influence of free insti- 

15 tutions. We know that if we want any class of peo- 
ple to overcome their prejudices in respecting the 
political rights and privileges of any other class, the 
very first thing we have to do is to accord the same 
rights and privileges to them. No American was 

20 ever inclined to recognize in others public rights and 
privileges from which he himself was excluded; and 
for aught I know, in this very feeling, although it may 
take an objectionable form, we find one of the safe- 
guards of popular liberty. 

25 You tell me that the late rebels had deserved all this 
in the way of punishment. Granting that, I beg leave 
to suggest that this is not the question. The question 
is: What were the means best calculated to overcome 
the difficulties standing in the way of a willing and uni- 

30 versal recognition of the new rights and privileges of 
the emancipated class? W T hat were the means to over- 
come the hostile influences impeding the development 
of the harmony of society in its new order? I am far 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 1 05 

from asserting that, had no disabilities existed, uni- 
versal suffrage would have been received by the South- 
ern whites with universal favor. No, sir, most 
probably it would not; but I do assert that the exist- 
ence of disabilities, which put so large and influential 5 
a class of whites in point of political privileges below 
the colored people, could not fail to inflame those 
prejudices which stood in the way of a general and 
honest acceptance of the new order of things; they 
increased instead of diminishing the dangers and diffi- 10 
culties surrounding the emancipated class; and nobody 
felt that more keenly than the colored people of the 
South themselves. To their honor be it said, follow- 
ing a just instinct, they were among the very first, not 
only in the South but all over the country, in entreat- 15 
ing Congress to remove those odious discriminations 
which put in jeopardy their own rights by making 
them greater than those of others. From the colored 
people themselves, it seems, we have in this respect 
received a lesson in statesmanship. 20 

Well, then, what policy does common sense sug- 
gest to us now? If we sincerely desire to give to the 
Southern States good and honest government, ma- 
terial prosperity, and measurable contentment, as far 
at least as we can contribute to that end; if we really 25 
desire to weaken and disarm those prejudices and re- 
sentments which still disturb the harmony of society, 
will it not be wise, will it not be necessary, will it not 
be our duty to show that we are in no sense the allies 
and abettors of those who use their political power 30 
to plunder their fellow-citizens, and that we do not 
mean to keep one class of people in unnecessary 
degradation by withholding from them rights and 



io6 CARL SCHURZ. 

privileges which all others enjoy? Seeing the mis- 
chief which the system of disabilities is accomplishing, 
is it not time that there should be at least an end of it; 
or is there any good it can possibly do to make up for 
5 the harm it has already wrought and is still working? 
Look at it. Do these disabilities serve in any way 
to protect anybody in his rights or in his liberty or 
in his property or in his life? Does the fact that some 
men are excluded from office, in any sense or measure, 

10 make others more secure in their lives or in their prop- 
erty or in their rights? Can anybody tell me how? 
Or do they, perhaps, prevent even those who are ex- 
cluded from official position from doing mischief if 
they are mischievously inclined? Does the exclusion 

15 from office, does any feature of your system of political 
disabilities, take the revolver or the bowie-knife or the 
scourge from the hands of anyone who wishes to use 
it? Does it destroy the influence of the more intelli- 
gent upon society, if they mean to use that influence 

20 for mischievous purposes? 

We hear the Ku Klux * outrages spoken of as a rea- 
son why political disabilities should not be removed. 
Did not these very same Ku Klux outrages happen 
while disabilities were in existence? Is it not clear, 

25 then, that the existence of political disabilities did not 
prevent them? No, sir, if political disabilities have 
any practical effect it is, while not in any degree di- 
minishing the power of the evil-disposed for mischief, 

* The Ku Klux Klan was a secret organization in the Southern 
States, formed for the purpose of preventing negroes, by intimidation, 
from voting or holding office. It arose probably in 1867. Many 
murders and other crimes were committed by its members, and it was 
suppressed at last only by Federal enactment. 



GENERAL AMNESTY. T07 

to incite and sharpen their mischievous inclination by 
increasing their discontent with the condition they 
live in. 

It must be clear to every impartial observer that 
were ever so many of those who are now disqualified 5 
put in office, they never could do with their official 
power as much mischief as the mere fact of the ex- 
istence of the system of political disabilities, with 
its inevitable consequences, is doing to-day. The 
scandals of misgovernment in the South which 10 
we complain of I admit were not the first and 
original cause of the Ku Klux outrages. But 
every candid observer will also have to admit 
that they did serve to keep the Ku Klux spirit 
alive. Without such incitement it might gradually by 15 
this time, to a great extent at least, have spent itself. 
And now if the scandals of misgovernment were, 
partly at least, owing to the exclusion of so large a 
portion of the intelligence and experience of the South 
from the active management of affairs, must it not be 20 
clear that a measure which will tend to remedy this 
evil may also tend to reduce the causes which still 
disturb the peace and harmony of society? 

We accuse the Southern whites of having missed 
their chance of gaining the confidence of the emanci- 25 
pated class when, by a fairly demonstrated purpose of 
recognizing and protecting them in their rights, they 
might have acquired upon them a salutary influence. 
That accusation is by no means unjust; but must we 
not admit, also, that by excluding them from their po- 30 
litical rights and privileges we put the damper of most 
serious discouragement upon the good intentions 
which might have grown up among them? Let us 



io8 CARL SCHURZ. 

place ourselves in their situation, and then I ask you 
how many of us would, under the same circumstances, 
have risen above the ordinary impulses of human na- 
ture to exert a salutary influence in defiance of our 
5 own prejudices, being so pointedly told every day that 
it was not the business of those laboring under po- 
litical disabilities to meddle with public affairs at all? 
And thus, in whatever direction you may turn your 
eyes, you look in vain for any practical good your 

10 political disabilities might possibly accomplish. You 
find nothing, absolutely nothing, in their practical 
effects but the aggravation of evils already existing, 
and the prevention of a salutary development. 

Is it not the part of wise men, sir, to acknowledge 

15 the failure of a policy like this in order to remedy it, 
especially since every candid mind must recognize 
that, by continuing the mistake, absolutely no practi- 
cal good can be subserved? 

But I am told that the system of disabilities must 

20 be maintained for certain moral effect. The senator 
from Indiana [Mr. Morton] took great pains to in- 
form us that it is absolutely necessary to exclude 
somebody from office in order to demonstrate our dis- 
approbation of the crime of rebellion. Methinks that 

25 the American people have signified their disapproba- 
tion of the crime of rebellion in a far more pointed 
manner. They sent against the rebellion a million 
armed men. We fought and conquered the armies of 
the rebels; we carried desolation into their land; we 

30 swept out of existence that system of slavery which 
was the soul of their offense and was to be the corner 
stone of their new empire. If that was not signify- 
ing our disapprobation of the crime of rebellion, then 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 1 09 

I humbly submit that your system of political disa- 
bilities, only excluding some persons from office, will 
scarcely do it. 

I remember, also, to have heard the argument that 
under all circumstances the law must be vindicated. 5 
What law in this case? If any law is meant, it must 
be the law imposing the penalty of death upon the 
crime of treason. Well, if at the close of the War we 
had assumed the stern and bloody virtue of the ancient 
Roman, and had proclaimed that he who raises his hand 10 
against this republic must surely die, then we might 
have claimed for ourselves at least the merit of logical 
consistency. We might have thought that by erect- 
ing a row of gallows stretching from the Potomac to 
the Rio Grande, and by making a terrible example of 15 
all those who had proved faithless to their allegiance, 
we would strike terror into the hearts of this and com- 
ing generations, to make them tremble at the mere 
thought of treasonable undertakings. That we might 
have done. Why did we not? Because the American 20 
people instinctively recoiled from the idea; because 
every wise man remembered that where insurrections 
are punished and avenged with the bloodiest hands, 
there insurrections do most frequently occur; witness 
France and Spain and the southern part of this hemi- 25 
sphere; that there is a fascination for bloody reckon- 
ings which allures instead of repelling — a fascination 
like that of the serpent's eye, which irresistibly draws 
on its victim. The American people recoiled from it, 
because they felt and knew that the civilization of the 30 
nineteenth century has for such evils a better medicine 
than blood. 

Thus, sir, the penalty of treason, as provided for by 



HO CARL SCHURZ. 

law, remained a dead letter on the statute book, and 
we instinctively adopted a generous policy, and we 
added fresh luster to the glory of the American name 
by doing so. And now you would speak of vindicat- 
5 ing the law against treason, which demands death, by 
merely excluding a number of persons from eligibility 
to office ! Do you not see that, as a vindication of the 
law against treason, as an act of punishment, the sys- 
tem of disabilities sinks down to the level of a ridicu- 

iolous mockery? If you want your system of disabili- 
ties to appear at all in a respectable light, then, in the 
name of common sense, do not call it a punishment 
for treason. Standing there, as it does, stripped of 
all the justification it once derived from political neces- 

15 sity, it would appear only as the evidence of an im- 
potent desire to be severe without the courage to carry 
it out. But, having once adopted the policy of gen- 
erosity, the only question for us is how to make that 
policy most fruitful. The answer is: We shall make 

20 the policy of generosity most fruitful by making it 
most complete. 

The senator from Connecticut [Mr. Buckingham], 
whom I am so unfortunate as not to see in his seat 
to-day, when he opened the debate, endeavored to 

25 fortify his theory by an illustration borrowed from the 
Old Testament, and I am willing to take that illustra- 
tion off his hands. He asked, if Absalom had lived 
after his treason, and had been excluded from his 
father's table, would he have had a just reason to com- 

30 plain of an unjust deprivation of rights? It seems to 
me that story of Absalom contains a most excellent 
lesson, which the Senate of the United States ought to 
read correctly. For the killing of his brother, Absa- 



GENERAL AMNESTY. lit 

lorn had lived in banishment, from which the king, his 
father, permitted him to return; but the wayward son 
was but half pardoned, for he was not permitted to 
see his father's face. And it was for that reason, and 
then, that he went among the people to seduce them 5 
into a rebellion against his royal father's authority. 
Had he survived that rebellion, King David, as a pru- 
dent statesman, would either have killed his son Ab- 
salom or he would have admitted him to his table, in 
order to make him a good son again by unstinted 10 
fatherly love. But he would certainly not have per- 
mitted his son Absalom to run at large, capable of 
doing mischief, and at the same time by small meas- 
ures of degradation inciting him to do it, And that 
is just the policy we have followed. We have per- 15 
mitted the late rebels to run at large, capable of doing 
mischief, and then by small measures of degradation, 
utterly useless for any good purpose, we incited them 
to do it. Looking at your political disabilities with an 
impartial eye, you will find that, as a measure of pun- 20 
ishment, they did not go far enough; as a measure of 
policy they went much too far. We were far too gen- 
erous to subjugate the hearts of our late enemies by 
terror; and we mixed our generosity with just enough 
of bitterness to prevent it from bearing its full fruit. 25 
I repeat, we can make the policy of generosity most 
fruitful only by making it most complete. What ob- 
jection, then, can stand against this consideration of 
public good? 

You tell me that many of the late rebels do not de- 30 
serve a full restoration of their rights. That may be 
so; I do not deny it; but yet, sir, if many of them do 
not deserve it, is it not a far more important considera- 



H2 CARL SCHURZ. 

tion how much the welfare of the country will be 
promoted by it? 

I am told that many of the late rebels, if we volun- 
teer a pardon to them, would not appreciate it. I do 
5 not deny this; it may be so, for the race of fools, un- 
fortunately, is not all dead yet; but if they do not 
appreciate it, shall we have no reason to appreciate 
the great good which by this measure of generosity 
will be conferred upon the whole land? 

io Some senator, referring to a defaulting paymaster 
who experienced the whole rigor of the law, asked us, 
" When a poor defaulter is punished, shall a rebel go 
free? Is embezzlement a greater crime than trea- 
son?" No, sir, it is not; but again I repeat that is not 

15 the question. The question is whether a general 
amnesty to rebels is not far more urgently demanded 
by the public interest than a general pardon for 
thieves. Whatever may be said of the greatness and 
the heinous character of the crime of rebellion, a single 

20 glance at the history of the world and at the practice 
of other nations will convince you that in all civilized 
countries the measure of punishment to be visited on 
those guilty of that crime is almost uniformly treated 
as a question of great policy and almost never as a 

25 question of strict justice. And why is this? Why is 
it that a thief, although pardoned, will never again be 
regarded as an untainted member of society, while a 
pardoned rebel may still rise to the highest honors of 
the state, and sometimes even gain the sincere and 

30 general esteem and confidence of his countrymen? 
Because a broad line of distinction is drawn between 
a violation of law in which political opinion is the 
controlling element (however erroneous, nay, however 



GENERAL AMNESTY. t\% 

revolting that opinion may be, and however disastrous 
the consequences of the act) and those infamous 
crimes of which moral depravity is the principal in- 
gredient; and because even the most disastrous politi- 
cal conflicts may be composed for the common good 5 
by a conciliatory process, while the infamous crime 
always calls for a strictly penal correction. You may 
call this just or not, but such is the public opinion of 
the civilized world, and you find it in every civilized 
country. IO 

Look at the nations around us. In the Parliament 
of Germany how many men are there sitting who were 
once what you would call fugitives from justice, exiles 
on account of their revolutionary acts, now admitted 
to the great council of the nation in the fullness of 15 
their rights and privileges — and mark you, without 
having been asked to abjure the opinions they for- 
merly held, for at the present moment most of them 
still belong to the Liberal opposition. Look at Austria, 
where Count Andrassy, a man who, in 1849, was con " 20 
demned to the gallows as a rebel, at this moment 
stands at the head of the imperial ministry; and those 
who know the history of that country are fully aware 
that the policy of which that amnesty was a part, 
which opened to Count Andrassy the road to power, 25 
has attached Hungary more closely than ever to the 
Austrian Crown, from which a narrow-minded policy 
of severity would have driven her. 

Now, sir, ought not we to profit by the wisdom of 
such examples? It may be said that other Govern- 30 
ments were far more rigorous in their first repressive 
measures, and that they put off the grant of a general 
amnesty much longer after suppressing an insurrec- 



H4 CARL SCHURZ. 

tion than we are required to do. So they did; but is 
not this the great republic of the New World which 
marches in the very vanguard of modern civilization, 
and which, when an example of wisdom is set by other 
5 nations, should not only rise to its level, but far 
above it? 

It seems now to be generally admitted that the time 
has come for a more comprehensive removal of politi- 
cal disabilities than has so far been granted. If that 

io sentiment be sincere, if you really do desire to accom- 
plish the greatest possible good by this measure that 
can be done, I would ask you what practical advan- 
tage do you expect to derive from the exclusions for 
which this bill provides? Look at them, one after an- 

15 other. 

First, all those are excluded who, when the Rebel- 
lion broke out, were members of Congress, and left 
their seats in these halls to join it. Why are these 
men to be excluded as a class? Because this class 

20 contains a number of prominent individuals, who, in 
the Rebellion, became particularly conspicuous and 
obnoxious, and among them we find those whom we 
might designate as the original conspirators. But 
these are few, and they might have been mentioned 

25 by name. Most of those, however, who left their seats 
in Congress to make common cause with the rebels 
were in no way more responsible for the Rebellion than 
other prominent men in the South who do not fall 
under this exception. If we accept at all the argu- 

30 ment that it will be well for the cause of good govern- 
ment and the material welfare of the South to re-admit 
to the management of public affairs all the intelligence 
and political experience in those States, why, then, 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 115 

exclude as a class men who, having been members 
of Congress, may be presumed to possess a higher de- 
gree of that intelligence and experience than the rest? 
If you want that article at all for good purposes, I ask 
you, do you not want as large a supply of that article 5 
as you can obtain? 

Leaving aside the original conspirators, is there any 
reason in the world why those members of Congress 
should be singled out from the numerous class of in- 
telligent and prominent men who were or had been 10 
in office and had taken the same oath which is ad- 
ministered in these halls? Look at it. You do not 
propose to continue the disqualification of men who 
served this country as foreign ministers, who left their 
important posts, betrayed the interests of this country 15 
in foreign lands to come back and join the Rebellion; 
you do not propose to exclude from the benefit of 
this act those who sat upon the bench and doffed the 
judicial ermine to take part in the Rebellion; and if 
such men are not to be disfranchised, why disfranchise 20 
the common run of the congressmen, whose guilt is cer- 
tainly not greater, if it be as great? Can you tell me? 
Is it wise even to incur the suspicion of making an ex- 
ception merely for the sake of excluding somebody, 
when no possible good can be accomplished by it, and 25 
when you can thus only increase the number of men 
incited to discontent and mischief by small and un- 
necessary degradations? 

And now as to the original conspirators, what has 
become of them? Some of them are dead; and as to 30 
those who are still living, I ask you, sir, are they not 
dead also? Look at Jefferson Davis himself. What 
if you exclude even him — and certainly our feelings 



Il6 CARL SCHURZ. 

would naturally impel us to do so; but let our reason 
speak — what if you exclude even him? Would you 
not give him an importance which otherwise he never 
would possess, by making people believe that you are 
5 even occupying your minds enough with him to make 
him an exception to an act of generous wisdom? 
Truly to refrain from making an act of amnesty gen- 
eral on account of the original conspirators, candidly 
speaking, I would not consider worth while. I would 

10 not leave them the pitiable distinction of not being 
pardoned. Your very generosity will be to them the 
source of the bitterest disappointment. As long as 
they are excluded, they may still find some satisfac- 
tion in the delusion of being considered men of dan- 

15 gerous importance. Their very disabilities they look 
upon to-day as a recognition of their power. They 
may still make themselves and others believe that, 
were the Southern people only left free in their choice, 
they would eagerly raise them again to the highest 

20 honors. 

But you relieve them of their exclusion, and they 
will at once become conscious of their nothingness, a 
nothingness most glaringly conspicuous then, for you 
will have drawn away the veil that has concealed it. I 

25 suspect that gentlemen on the Democratic side of the 
House, whom they would consider their political 
friends, would be filled with dismay at the mere 
thought of their reappearance among them. If 
there is anything that could prevent them from vot- 

30 ing for universal amnesty, it might be the fear, if they 
entertained it at all, of seeing Jefferson Davis once 
more a senator of the United States. 

But more than that: you relieve that class of per- 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 117 

sons, those old misleaders, of their exclusion, and they 
will soon discover that the people whom they once 
plunged into disaster and ruin have in the meantime 
grown, if not as wise as they ought to be, certainly 
too wise to put their destinies in the hands of the 5 
same men again. I hope, therefore, you will not strip 
this measure of the merit of being a general amnesty 
to spare the original plotters this most salutary ex- 
perience. 

So much for the first exception. Now to the sec- 10 
ond. It excludes from the benefit of this act all those 
who were officers of the Army or of the Navy and then 
joined the Rebellion. Why exclude that class of per- 
sons? I have heard the reason very frequently stated 
upon the floor of the Senate; it is because those men 15 
had been educated at the public expense, and their 
turning against the Government was therefore an act 
of peculiar faithlessness and black ingratitude. That 
might appear a very strong argument at first sight. 
But I ask you was it not one of the very first acts of 20 
this administration to appoint one of the most promi- 
nent and conspicuous of that class to a very lucrative 
and respectable public office? I mean General Long- 
street. He had obtained his military education at the 
expense of the Am rican people. He was one of the 25 
wards, one of the pets of the American Republic, and 
then he turned against it as a rebel. Whatever of 
faithlessness, whatever of black ingratitude there is in 
such conduct, it was in his; and yet, in spite of all this, 
the President nominated him for an office, and your 30 
consent, senators, made him a public dignitary. Why 
did you break the rule in his case? I will not say that 
you did it because he had become a Republican, for I 



n8 CARL SCHURZ. 

am far from attributing any mere partisan motive to 
your action. No; you did it because his conduct after 
the close of hostilities had been that of a well-dis- 
posed and law-abiding citizen. Thus, then, the rule 
5 which you, senators, have established for your own 
conduct is simply this: you will, in the case of officers 
of the Army or the Navy, waive the charge of peculiar 
faithlessness and ingratitude if the persons in question 
after the War had become law-abiding and well-dis- 

10 posed citizens. Well, is it not a fact universally 
recognized, and I believe entirely uncontradicted, that 
of all classes of men connected with the Rebellion 
there is not one whose conduct since the close of the 
War has been so unexceptionable, and in a great many 

15 instances so beneficial in its influence upon Southern 
society, as the officers of the Army and the Navy, espe- 
cially those who before the War had been members 
of our regular establishments? Why, then, except 
them from this act of amnesty? If you take subse- 

20 quent good conduct into account at all, these men are 
the very last who as a class ought to be excluded. 
And would it not be well to encourage them in well- 
doing by a sign on your part that they are not to be 
looked upon as outcasts whose influence is not de- 

25 sired, even when they are inclined to use it for the pro- 
motion of the common welfare? 

The third class excluded consists of those who were 
members of State conventions, and in those State con- 
ventions voted for ordinances of secession. If we 

30 may judge from the words which fell from the lips of 
the senator from Indiana, they were the objects of his 
particular displeasure. Why this? Here we have a 
large number of men of local standing who in some 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 119 

cases may have been leaders on a small scale, but 
most of whom were drawn into the whirl of the revo- 
lutionary movement just like the rest of the Southern 
population. If you accept the proposition that it will 
be well and wise to permit the intelligence of the coun- 5 
try to participate in the management of the public 
business, the exclusion of just these people will appear 
especially inappropriate, because their local influence 
might be made peculiarly beneficial; and if you ex- 
clude these persons, whose number is considerable, 10 
you tell just that class of people whose co-operation 
might be made most valuable that their co-operation 
is not wanted, for the reason that, according to the 
meaning and intent of your system of disabilities, pub- 
lic affairs are no business of theirs. You object that 15 
they are more guilty than the rest. Suppose they are 
— and in many cases I am sure they are only appar- 
ently so — but if they were not guilty of any wrong, 
they would need no amnesty. Amnesty is made for 
those who bear a certain degree of guilt. Or would 20 
you indulge here in the solemn farce of giving pardon 
only to those who are presumably innocent? You 
grant your amnesty that it may bear good fruit; and 
if you do it for that purpose, then do not diminish the 
good fruit it may bear by leaving unplanted the most 25 
promising soil upon which it may grow. 

A few words now about the second section of the 
bill before you, which imposes upon those who desire 
to have the benefit of amnesty the duty of taking an 
oath to support the Constitution before some public 30 
officer, that oath to be registered, the list to be laid be- 
fore Congress and to be preserved in the office of the 
Secretary of State. Sir, I ask you, can you or any- 



120 CARL SCHURZ. 

one tell me what practical good is to be accomplished 
by a provision like this? You may say that the tak- 
ing of another oath will do nobody any harm. Proba- 
bly not; but can you tell me, in the name of common 
5 sense, what harm in this case the taking of that oath 
will prevent? Or have we read the history of the 
world in vain, that we should not know yet how little 
political oaths are worth to improve the mortality of a 
people or to secure the stability of a government? 

10 And what do you mean to accomplish by making up 
and preserving your lists of pardoned persons? Can 
they be of any possible advantage to the country in 
any way? Why, then, load down an act like this with 
such useless circumstance, while, as an act of grace 

15 and wisdom, it certainly ought to be as straightfor- 
ward and simple as possible? 

Let me now in a few words once more sum up the 
whole meaning of the question which we are now en- 
gaged in discussing. No candid man can deny that 

20 our system of political disabilities is in no way calcu- 
lated to protect the rights or the property or the life 
or the liberty of any living man, or in any way practi- 
cally to prevent the evil-disposed from doing mischief. 
Why do you think of granting any amnesty at all? Is 

25 it not to produce on the popular mind in the South a 
conciliatory effect, to quicken the germs of good in- 
tentions, to encourage those who can exert a bene- 
ficial influence, to remove the pretexts of ill-feeling 
and animosity, and to aid in securing to the Southern 

30 States the blessings of good and honest government? 
If that is not your design, what can it be? 

But if it be this, if you really do desire to produce 
such moral effects, then I entreat you also to consider 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 121 

what moral means you have to employ in order to 
bring forth those moral effects you contemplate. If an 
act of generous statesmanship, or of statesman-like 
generosity, is to bear full fruit, it should give not as 
little as possible, but it should give as much as possi- 5 
ble. You must not do things by halves if you want 
to produce whole results. You must not expose your- 
self to the suspicion of a narrow-minded desire to 
pinch off the size of your gift wherever there is a 
chance for it, as if you were afraid you could by any 10 
possibility give too much, when giving more would 
benefit the country more, and when giving less would 
detract from the beneficent effect of that which you 
do give. 

Let me tell you it is the experience of all civilized 15 
nations the world over, when an amnesty is to be 
granted at all, the completest amnesty is always the 
best. Any limitation you may impose, however plausi- 
ble it may seem at first sight, will be calculated to take 
away much of the virtue of that which is granted. I 20 
entreat you, then, in the name of the accumulated 
experience of history, let there be an end of these 
bitter and useless and disturbing questions; let the 
books be finally closed, and when the subject is for- 
ever dismissed from our discussions and our minds, we 25 
shall feel as much relieved as those who are relieved 
of their political disabilities. 

Sir, I have to say a few words about an accusation 
which has been brought against those who speak in 
favor of universal amnesty. It is the accusation re- 30 
sorted to, in default of more solid argument, that those 
who advise amnesty, especially universal amnesty, do 
so because they have fallen in love with the rebels. 



122 CARL SCHURZ. 

No, sir, it is not merely for the rebels I plead. We are 
asked, Shall the Rebellion go entirely unpunished? 
No, sir, it shall not. Neither do I think that the Re- 
bellion has gone entirely unpunished. I ask you, had 
5 the rebels nothing to lose but their lives and their 
offices? Look at it. There was a proud and arro- 
gant aristocracy, planting their feet on the necks of the 
laboring people, and pretending to be the born rulers 
of this great republic. They looked down, not only 

10 upon their slaves, but also upon the people of the 
North, with the haughty contempt of self-asserting 
superiority. When their pretensions to rule us all 
were first successfully disputed, they resolved to de- 
stroy this republic, and to build up on the corner 

15 stone of slavery an empire of their own in which they 
could hold absolute sway. They made the attempt 
with the most overweeningly confident expectation of 
certain victory. Then came the Civil War, and after 
four years of struggle their whole power and pride 

20 lay shivered to atoms at our feet, their sons dead by 
tens of thousands on the battle-fields of this country, 
their fields and their homes devastated, their fortunes 
destroyed; and more than that, the whole social system 
in which they had their being, with all their hopes 

25 and pride, utterly wiped out; slavery forever abolished, 
and the slaves themselves created a political power 
before which they had to bow their heads, and they, 
broken, ruined, helpless, and hopeless in the dust be- 
fore those upon whom they had so haughtily looked 

30 down as their vassals and inferiors. Sir, can it be 

said that the Rebellion has gone entirely unpunished? 

You may object that the loyal people, too, were 

subjected to terrible sufferings; that their sons, too, 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 123 

were slaughtered by tens of thousands; that the 
mourning of countless widows and orphans is still 
darkening our land; that we are groaning under ter- 
rible burdens which the Rebellion has loaded upon us, 
and that therefore part of the punishment has fallen 5 
upon the innocent. And it is certainly true. 

But look at the difference. We issued from this 
great conflict as conquerors; upon the graves of our 
slain we could lay the wreath of victory; our widows 
and orphans, while mourning the loss of their dearest, 10 
still remember with proud exultation that the blood of 
their husbands and fathers was not spilled in vain; that 
it flowed for the greatest and holiest and at the same 
time the most victorious of causes; and when our peo- 
ple labor in the sweat of their brow to pay the debt 15 
which the Rebellion has loaded upon us, they do it 
with the proud consciousness that the heavy price they 
have paid is infinitely overbalanced by the value of the 
results they have gained: slavery abolished; the great 
American Republic purified of her foulest stain ; the 20 
American people no longer a people of masters and 
slaves, but a people of equal citizens; the most dan- 
gerous element of disturbance and disintegration 
wiped out from among us; this country put upon the 
course of harmonious development, greater, more 25 
beautiful, mightier than ever in its self-conscious 
power. And thus, whatever losses, whatever sacri- 
fices, whatever sufferings we may have endured, they 
appear before us in a blaze of glory. 

But how do the Southern people stand there? All 30 
they have sacrificed, all they have lost, all the blood 
they have spilled, all the desolation of their homes, all 
the distress that stares them in the face, all the wreck 



124 CARL SCHURZ. 

and ruin they see around them — all for nothing, 
all for a wicked folly, all for a disastrous infatua- 
tion; the very graves of their slain nothing but 
monuments of a shadowy delusion; all their former 

5 hopes vanished forever; and the very magniloquence 
which some of their leaders are still indulging in, 
nothing but a mocking illustration of their utter dis- 
comfiture ! Ah, sir, if ever human efforts broke down 
in irretrievable disaster, if ever human pride was hu- 

10 miliated to the dust, if ever human hopes were turned 
into despair, there you behold them. 

You may say that they deserved it all. Yes, but 
surely, sir, you cannot say that the Rebellion has gone 
entirely unpunished. Nor will the senator from Indi- 

15 ana, with all his declamation (and I am sorry not now 
to see him before me), make any sane man believe that 
had no political disabilities ever been imposed, the 
history of the Rebellion, as long as the memory of 
men retains the recollection of the great story, will 

20 ever encourage a future generation to rebel again, or 
that if even this great example of disaster should fail 
to extinguish the spirit of rebellion, his little scare- 
crow of exclusion from office will be more than a thing 
to be laughed at by little boys. 

25 And yet, sir, it is certainly true that after the close 
of the War we treated the rebels with a generosity 
never excelled in the history of the world. And thus, 
in advising a general amnesty it is not merely for the 
rebels I plead. But I plead for the good of the coun- 

30 try, which in its best interests will be benefited by 
amnesty just as much as the rebels are benefited them- 
selves, if not more. 

Nay, sir, I plead also for the colored people of the 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 1 25 

South, whose path will be smoothed by a measure 
calculated to assuage some of the prejudices and to 
disarm some of the bitternesses which still confront 
them; and I am sure that nothing better could happen 
to them, nothing could be more apt to make the 5 
growth of good feeling between them and the former 
master-class easier, than the destruction of a system 
which, by giving them a political superiority, endan- 
gers their peaceable enjoyment of equal rights. 

And I may say to my honorable friend from Massa- 10 
chusetts [Mr. Sumner], who knows well how highly 
I esteem him, and whom I sincerely honor for his 
solicitude concerning the welfare of the lowly, that my 
desire to see their wrongs righted is no less sincere and 
no less unhampered by any traditional prejudice than 15 
his; although I will confess that as to the constitu- 
tional means to that end we may sometimes seriously 
differ; but I cannot refrain from expressing my regret 
that this measure should be loaded with anything that 
is not strictly germane to it, knowing as we both do 20 
that the amendment* he has proposed cannot secure 
the necessary two-thirds vote in at least one of the 
Houses of Congress, and that therefore it will be cal- 
culated to involve this measure also in the danger of 
common failure. I repeat, it is not merely for the 25 
rebels I plead; it is for the whole American people, 
for there is not a citizen in the land whose true inter- 
ests, rightly understood, are not largely concerned in 
every measure affecting the peace and welfare of any 
State of this Union. 30 

* Mr. Sumner had offered to the bill an amendment of several sec- 
tions, the purpose of which was to secure equal civil rights for the 
colored race. 



126 CARL SCHURZ. 

Believe me, senators, the statesmanship which this 
period of our history demands is not exhausted by 
high-sounding declamation about the greatness of the 
crime of rebellion, and fearful predictions as to what 
5 is going to happen unless the rebels are punished with 
sufficient severity. We have heard so much of this 
from some gentlemen, and so little else, that the in- 
quiry naturally suggests itself whether this is the 
whole compass, the be-all and the end-all of their 

10 political wisdom and their political virtue; whether 
it is really their opinion that the people of 
the South may be plundered with' impunity by 
rascals in power, that the substance of those 
States may be wasted, that their credit may be 

15 ruined, that their prosperity may be blighted, that 
their future may be blasted, that the poison of bad 
feeling may still be kept working where we might do 
something to assuage its effects; that the people may 
lose more and more their faith in the efficiency of self- 

20 government and of republican institutions; that all this 
may happen, and we look on complacently, if we can 
only continue to keep a thorn in the side of our late 
enemies, and to demonstrate again and again, as the 
senator from Indiana has it, our disapprobation of the 

25 crime of rebellion? 

Sir, such appeals as these, which we have heard so 
frequently, may be well apt to tickle the ear of an 
unthinking multitude. But unless I am grievously in 
error, the people of the United States are a multitude 

30 not unthinking. The American people are fast be- 
coming aware that, great as the crime of rebellion is, 
there are other villainies beside it; that much as it 
may deserve punishment there are other evils flagrant 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 1 27 

enough to demand energetic correction; that the rem- 
edy for such evils does, after all, not consist in the 
maintenance of political disabilities, and that it would 
be well to look behind those vociferous demonstrations 
of exclusive and austere patriotism to see what abuses 5 
and faults of policy they are to cover, and what rotten 
sores they are to disguise. The American people are 
fast beginning to perceive that good and honest gov- 
ernment in the South, as well as throughout the whole 
country, restoring a measurable degree of confidence 10 
and contentment, will do infinitely more to revive true 
loyalty and a healthy national spirit, than keeping 
alive the resentments of the past by a useless degrada- 
tion of certain classes of persons; and that we shall 
fail to do our duty unless we use every means to con- 15 
tribute our share to that end. And those, I appre- 
hend, expose themselves to grievous disappointment 
who still think that, by dinning again and again in the 
ears of the people the old battle-cries of the Civil War, 
they can befog the popular mind as to the true re- 20 
quirements of the times, and overawe and terrorize 
the public sentiment of the country. 

Sir, I am coming to a close. One word more. We 
have heard protests here against amnesty as a measure 
intended to make us forget the past and to obscure and 25 
confuse our moral appreciation of the great events of 
our history. No, sir; neither would I have the past 
forgotten, with its great experiences and teachings. 
Let the memory of the grand uprising for the integrity 
of the republic; let those heroic deeds and sacrifices 30 
before which the power of slavery crumbled into dust, 
be forever held in proud and sacred remembrance by 
the American people. Let it never be forgotten, as 



128 CARL SCHURZ. 

I am sure it never can be forgotten, that the American 
Union, supported by her faithful children, can never 
be undermined by any conspiracy ever so daring, nor 
overthrown by any array of enemies ever so formida- 
5 ble. Let the great achievements of our struggle for 
national existence be forever a source of lofty inspira- 
tion to our children and children's children. 

But surely, sir, I think no generous resolution on 
our part will mar the luster of those memories, nor will 

10 it obliterate from the Southern mind the overwhelm- 
ing experience that he who raises his hand against the 
majesty of this republic is doomed to disastrous 
humiliation and ruin. I would not have it forgotten; 
and, indeed, that experience is so indelibly written 

15 upon the Southern country that nothing can wipe it 
out. 

But, sir, as the people of the North and of the South 
must live together as one people, and as they must be 
bound together by the bonds of a common national 

20 feeling, I ask you, will it not be well for us so to act 
that the history of our great civil conflict, which cannot 
be forgotten, can never be remembered by Southern 
men without finding in its closing chapter this irresist- 
ible assurance: that we, their conquerors, meant to 

25 be, and were after all, not their enemies, but their 
friends? When the Southern people con over the dis- 
tressing catalogue of the misfortunes they have 
brought upon themselves, will it not be well, will it 
not be " devoutly to be wished " for our common fu- 

30 ture, if at the end of that catalogue they find an act 
which will force every fair-minded man in the South 
to say of the Northern people, " When we were at 
war they inflicted upon us the severities of war; but 



GENERAL AMNESTY. 129 

when the contest had closed and they found us pros- 
trate before them, grievously suffering, surrounded by 
the most perplexing difficulties and on the brink of 
new disasters, they promptly swept all the resentments 
of the past out of their way and stretched out their 5 
hands to us with the very fullest measure of gener- 
osity — anxious, eager to lift us up from our pros- 
tration? " 

Sir, will not this do something to dispel those mists 
of error and prejudice which are still clouding the 10 
Southern mind? I ask again, will it not be well to 
add to the sad memories of the past which forever will 
live in their minds, this cheering experience, so apt 
to prepare them for the harmony of a better and com- 
mon future? 15 

No, sir; I would not have the past forgotten, but I 
would have its history completed and crowned by an 
act most worthy of a great, noble, and wise people. 
By all the means which we have in our hands, I would 
make even those who have sinned against this repub- 20 
lie see in its flag, not the symbol of their lasting degra- 
dation, but of rights equal to all; I would make them 
feel in their hearts that in its good and evil fortunes 
their rights and interests are bound up just as ours are, 
and that therefore its peace, its welfare, its honor, and 25 
its greatness may and ought to be as dear to them 
as they are to us. 

I do not, indeed, indulge in the delusion that this 
act alone will remedy all the evils which we now de- 
plore. No, it will not ; but it will be a powerful appeal 30 
to the very best instincts and impulses of human na- 
ture; it will, like a warm ray of sunshine in spring- 
time, quicken and call to light the germs of good 



13° CARL SCHURZ. 

intention wherever they exist; it will give new cour- 
age, confidence, and inspiration to the well-disposed; 
it will weaken the power of the mischievous, by strip- 
ping off their pretexts and exposing in their nakedness 
5 the wicked designs they still may cherish ; it will light 
anew the beneficent glow of fraternal feeling and of 
national spirit; for, sir, your good sense as well as 
your heart must tell you that, when this is truly a peo- 
ple of citizens equal in their political rights, it will 
10 then be easier to make it also a people of brothers. 



FORENSIC ORATORY. 

JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

Born 1810. Died 1883. 

THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY— EX-PARTE 
MILLIGAN. 

[The circumstances which gave rise to the case in which this argu- 
ment was made were briefly as follows : In October, 1864, Lamdin 
P. Milligan was arrested by order of General A. P. Hovey, command- 
ing the military district of Indiana, and tried before a military com- 
mission at Indianapolis. He was charged with joining and aiding a 
secret society known as the ' ' Order of American Knights or Sons of 
Liberty," for the purpose of overthrowing the Government, holding 
communication with the enemy, conspiring to seize munitions of war, 
and liberating prisoners. An objection by Milligan to the authority 
of the commission to try him was overruled, he was found guilty and 
sentenced to be hanged. Several days before the sentence was to 
have been executed he filed a petition in the United States Circuit 
Court setting forth that he had never been in the military service of 
the United States, nor within the limits of any State engaged in 
rebellion, but for twenty years had been an inhabitant and citizen of 
Indiana. He denied, therefore, the jurisdiction of the commission 
and prayed that he should either be turned over to the proper civil 
tribunal, or discharged altogether. At the hearing of the petition, 
the judges of the Circuit Court were divided in opinion on three 
questions: (1) should the writ of habeas corpus be issued? (2) 
should Milligan be discharged? (3) did the commission have juris- 
diction ? These questions were then certified to the Supreme Court 
of the United States and, with a further question of jurisdiction, 
were the points argued at the hearing which took place in the Decem- 
ber Term, 1866. Associated in the case with Judge Black were 
James A. Garfield, David Dudley Field, and J. E. McDonald ; assist- 
ing the Attorney-General Mr. Speed, were Benjamin F. Butler and 



132 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

Henry Stanbery. The court decided that the writ should issue and 
that Milligan was entitled to his discharge, on the ground that the 
military commission was illegal and without jurisdiction. 

The importance of the case and the questions involved will be seen 
from the following excerpt, taken from Great Speeches by Great 
Lawyers, p. 482. " This defense of the right of trial by jury is a 
marvelous display of Judge Black's extraordinary power and abilities 
as a lawyer, and the enduring importance of the subject will render 
it interesting as long as the individual liberty of the citizen shall be 
preserved as a part of the framework of human government. It was 
delivered during a period of great political excitement, before the 
passions and prejudices stored up by the greatest civil war in history 
had been allayed. It affected the destiny of one whose crimes were 
aimed at the destruction of the Government itself, and the public 
desire to see the sentence of the commission executed was very 
general. Since the anger and excitement of the times have passed 
away, and the great questions involved in this case present them- 
selves in their true aspect and importance, the argument of Judge 
Black becomes conspicuous as a defense of the dearest right of the 
citizen, and stands as a monument to which the eyes of mankind will 
turn in the hour when their rights are assailed. It will be admired 
by the student as a comprehensive exposition of the fundamental 
principles upon which the law of civil liberty depends, and the causes 
which led to their perfection and adoption under our system. The 
subject loses the dry, tedious detail of a legal argument, and becomes 
animated with the spirit and genius of the speaker, while presenting 
a review of the struggle between freedom and arbitrary power which 
the world has witnessed for centuries. It will be considered precious 
by persons in every walk of life, for it defines in a masterly manner 
the natural rights guaranteed to each individual by the organic law, 
and its importance in this respect clothes it with the heritage of 
immortality." 

The speech is reprinted, through the courtesy of the Hon. Chauncey 
F. Black, from the Essays and Speeches of Jeremiah S. Black, pub- 
lished by Messrs. D. Appleton and Company.] 

May it please your Honors: 

I am not afraid that you will underrate the impor- 
tance of this case. It concerns the rights of the whole 
people. Such questions have generally been settled 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 133 

by arms. But since the beginning of the world no 
battle has ever been lost or won upon which the 
liberties of a nation were so distinctly staked as they 
are on the results of this argument. The pen that 
writes the judgment of the court will be mightier for 5 
good or for evil than any sword that ever was wielded 
by mortal arm. 

As might be expected from the nature of the sub- 
ject, it has been a good deal discussed elsewhere, in 
legislative bodies, in public assemblies, and in the 10 
newspaper press of the country. But there it has been 
mingled with interests and feelings not very friendly 
to a correct conclusion. Here we are in a higher 
atmosphere, where no passion can disturb the judg- 
ment or shake the even balance in which the scales 15 
of reason are held. Here it is purely a judicial ques- 
tion; and I can speak for my colleagues as well as my- 
self when I say that we have no thought to suggest 
which we do not suppose to be a fair element in the 
strictly legal judgment which you are required to 20 
make up. 

In performing the duty assigned to me in the case, 
I shall necessarily refer to the mere rudiments of con- 
stitutional law; to the most commonplace topics of 
history, and to those plain rules of justice and right 25 
which pervade all our institutions. I beg your honors 
to believe that this is not done because I think that 
the court, or any member of it, is less familiar with 
these things than I am, or less sensible of their value; 
but simply and only because, according to my view 30 
of the subject, there is absolutely no other way of 
dealing with it. If the fundamental principles of 
American liberty are attacked, and we are driven be- 



134 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

hind the inner walls of the Constitution to defend 
them, we can repel the assault only with those same 
old weapons which our ancestors used a hundred years 
ago. You must not think the worse of our armor 

5 because it happens to be old-fashioned and looks a 
little rusty from long disuse. 

The case before you presents but a single point, and 
that an exceedingly plain one. It is not encumbered 
with any of those vexed questions that might be ex- 

io pected to arise out of a great war. You are not called 
upon to decide what kind of rule a military commander 
may impose upon the inhabitants of a hostile country 
which he occupies as a conqueror, or what punishment 
he may inflict upon the soldiers of his own army or 

15 the followers of his camp; or yet how he may deal 
with civilians in a beleaguered city or other place in 
a state of actual siege, which he is required to de- 
fend against a public enemy. This contest covers no 
such ground as that. The men whose acts we com- 

20 plain of erected themselves into a tribunal for the trial 
and punishment of citizens who were connected in no 
way whatever with the Army or Navy. And this they 
did in the midst of a community whose social and legal 
organization had never been disturbed by any war or 

25 insurrection, where the courts were wide open, where 
judicial process was executed every day without inter- 
ruption, and where all the civil authorities, both State 
and national, were in full exercise of their functions. 
My clients * were dragged before this strange tri- 

30 bunal, and, after a proceeding which it would be mere 
mockery to call a trial, they were ordered to be hung. 

* Two other men were arrested with Milligan and tried and con- 
victed at the same time. 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 13S 

The charge against them was put into writing and is 
found on this record, but you will not be able to de- 
cipher its meaning. The relators were not accused 
of treason; for no act is imputed to them which, if true, 
would come within the definition of that crime. It 5 
was not conspiracy under the act of 1861; for all 
concerned in this business must have known that con- 
spiracy was not a capital offense. If the commis- 
sioners were able to read English, they could not help 
but see that it was made punishable, even by fine and 10 
imprisonment, only upon condition that the parties 
should first be convicted before a Circuit or District 
Court of the United States. The Judge-Advocate 
must have meant to charge them with some offense 
unknown to the laws, which he chose to make capital 15 
by legislation of his own, and the commissioners were 
so profoundly ignorant as to think that the legal inno- 
cence of the parties made no difference in the case. I 
do not say, what Sir James Mackintosh said of a simi- 
lar proceeding, that the trial was a mere conspiracy to 20 
commit willful murder upon three innocent men. The 
commissioners are not on trial; they are absent and 
undefended; and they are entitled to the benefit of 
that charity which presumes them to be wholly un- 
acquainted with the first principles of natural justice, 25 
and quite unable to comprehend either the law or the 
facts of a criminal cause. 

Keeping the character of the charges in mind, let 
us come at once to the simple question upon which 
the court below divided in opinion : Had the commis- 30 
sioners jurisdiction — were they invested with legal 
authority to try the relators and put them to death for 
the offense of which they were accused? We answer, 



I3 6 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

No; and therefore the whole proceeding, from begin- 
ning to end, was utterly null and void. On the other 
hand, it is absolutely necessary for those who oppose 
us to assert, and they do assert, that the commissioners 
5 had complete legal jurisdiction, both of the subject- 
matter and of the parties, so that their judgment upon 
the law and the facts is absolutely conclusive and bind- 
ing, not subject to correction, nor open to inquiry in 
any court whatever. Of these two opposite views, 

ioyou must adopt one or the other; for there is no mid- 
dle ground on which you can possibly stand. 

I need not say (for it is the law of the horn-books) 
that where a court (whatever may be its power in other 
respects) presumes to try a man for an offense of which 

15 it has no right to take judicial cognizance, all its pro- 
ceedings in that case are null and void. If the party 
is acquitted, he cannot plead the acquittal afterward in 
bar of another prosecution; if he is found guilty and 
sentenced, he is entitled to be relieved from the pun- 

20 ishment. If a Circuit Court of the United States 
should undertake to try a party for an offense clearly 
within the exclusive jurisdiction of the State courts, 
the judgment could have no effect. If a county 
court in the interior of a State should arrest an officer 

25 of the Federal navy, try him, and order him to be hung 
for some offense against the law of nations, commit- 
ted upon the high seas or in a foreign port, nobody 
would treat such a judgment otherwise than with mere 
derision. The Federal courts have jurisdiction to try 

30 offenses against the laws of the United States, and 
the authority of the State courts is confined to the 
punishment of acts which are made penal by State 
laws. It follows that where the accusation does not 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 137 

amount to an offense against the law of either the State 
or Federal Government, no court can have jurisdiction 
to try it. Suppose, for example, that the judges of 
this court should organize themselves into a tribunal 
to try a man for witchcraft, or heresy, or treason 5 
against the Confederate States of America, would any- 
body say that your judgment had the least validity? 

I care not, therefore, whether the relators were in- 
tended to be charged with treason or conspiracy or 
with some offense of which the law takes no notice. 10 
Either or any way, the men who undertook to try 
them had no jurisdiction of the subject-matter. 

Nor had they jurisdiction of the parties. It is not 
pretended that this was a case of impeachment, or a 
case arising in the land or naval forces. It is either 15 
nothing at all, or else it is a simple crime against the 
United States, committed by private individuals not 
in the public service, civil or military. Persons stand- 
ing in that relation to the Government are answer- 
able for the offenses which they may commit only to 20 
the civil courts of the country. So says the Constitu- 
tion, as we read it; and the act of Congress of March 
3, 1863, which was passed with express reference to 
persons precisely in the situation of these men, de- 
clares that they shall be delivered up for trial to the 25 
proper civil authorities. 

There being no jurisdiction of the subject matter or 
of the parties, you are bound to relieve the petitioners. 
It is as much the duty of a judge to protect the inno- 
cent as it is to punish the guilty. Suppose that the 30 
secretary of some department should take it into his 
head to establish an ecclesiastical tribunal here in the 
city of Washington, composed of clergymen " organ- 



138 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

ized to convict " everybody who prays after a fashion 
inconsistent with the supposed safety of the State. If 
he would select the members with a proper regard to 
the odium theologicum, I think I could insure him a 
5 commission that would hang every man and woman 
who might be brought before it. But would you, the 
judges of the land, stand by and see their sentences 
executed? No; you would interpose your writ of 
prohibition, your habeas corpus, or any other process 

10 that might be at your command, between them and 
their victims. And you would do that for precisely 
the reason which requires your intervention here: be- 
cause religious errors, like political errors, are not 
crimes which anybody in this country has jurisdiction 

15 to punish, and because ecclesiastical commissions, like 
military commissions, are not among the judicial in- 
stitutions of this people. Our fathers long ago cast 
them both aside among the rubbish of the Dark Ages; 
and they intended that we, their children, should know 

20 them only that we might blush and shudder at the 
shameless injustice and the brutal cruelties which they 
were allowed to perpetrate in other times and other 
countries. 

But our friends on the other side are not at all im- 

25 pressed with these views. Their brief corresponds ex- 
actly with the doctrines propounded by the Attorney- 
General, in a very elaborate official paper which 
he published last July, upon this same subject. 
He then avowed it to be his settled and de- 

30 liberate opinion that the military might " take 
and kill, try and execute " (I use his own words) 
persons who had no sort of connection with 
the Army or Navy. And, though this be done in 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 139 

the face of the open courts, the judicial authority, 
according to him, are utterly powerless to prevent the 
slaughter which may thus be carried on. That is the 
thesis which the Attorney-General and his assistant 
counselors are to maintain this day, if they can main- 5 
tain it, with all the power of their artful eloquence. 

We, on the other hand, submit that a person not in 
the military or naval service cannot be punished at 
all until he has had a fair, open, public trial before an 
impartial jury, in an ordained and established court, 10 
to which the jurisdiction has been given by law to try 
him for that specific offense. There is our propo- 
sition. Between the ground we take and the ground 
they occupy there is and there can be no compromise. 
It is one way or the other. 15 

Our proposition ought to be received as true with- 
out any argument to support it; because if that, or 
something precisely equivalent to it, be not a part of 
our law, this is not, what we have always supposed it 
to be, a free country. Nevertheless, I take upon my- 20 
self the burden of showing affirmatively not only that 
it is true, but that it is immovably fixed in the very 
framework of the Government, so that it is utterly 
impossible to detach it without destroying the whole 
political structure under which we live. By remov- 25 
ing it you destroy the life of this nation as completely 
as you would destroy the life of an individual by cut- 
ting the heart out of his body. I proceed to the proof. 

In the first place, the self-evident truth will not be 
denied that the trial and punishment of an offender 30 
against the Government is the exercise of judicial 
authority. That is a kind of authority which would 
be lost by being diffused among the masses of the peo- 



140 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

pie. A judge would be no judge if everybody else 
were a judge as well as he. Therefore in every so- 
ciety, however rude or however perfect its organiza- 
tion, the judicial authority is always committed to the 
5 hands of particular persons, who are trusted to use it 
wisely and well; and their authority is exclusive; they 
cannot share it with others to whom it has not been 
committed. Where, then, is the judicial power in this 
country? Who are the depositaries of it here? The 

10 Federal Constitution answers that question in very 
plain words, by declaring that " the judicial power of 
the United States shall be vested in one Supreme 
Court, and in such inferior courts as Congress may 
from time to time ordain and establish." Congress 

15 has, from time to time, ordained and established cer- 
tain inferior courts; and in them, together with the 
one Supreme Court to which they are subordinate, is 
vested all the judicial power, properly so called, which 
the United States can lawfully exercise. That was 

20 the compact made with the General Government at 
the time it was created. The States and the people 
agreed to bestow upon that Government a certain por- 
tion of the judicial power, which otherwise would have 
remained in their own hands, but gave it on a solemn 

25 trust, and coupled the grant of it with this express 
condition that it should never be used in any way but 
one; that is, by means of ordained and established 
courts. Any person, therefore, who undertakes to ex- 
ercise judicial power in any other way not only vio- 

30 lates the law of the land, but he treacherously 
tramples upon the most important part of that sacred 
covenant which holds these States together. 

May it please your honors, you know, and I know, 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 1\1 

and everybody else knows, that it was the intention of 
the men who founded this Republic to put the life, 
liberty, and property of every person in it under the 
protection of a regular and permanent judiciary, sepa- 
rate, apart, distinct, from all other branches of the 5 
Government, whose sole and exclusive business it 
should be to distribute justice among the people ac- 
cording to the wants of each individual. It was to 
consist of courts, always open to the complaint of the 
injured, and always ready to hear criminal accusations 10 
when founded upon probable cause; surrounded with 
all the machinery necessary for the investigation of 
truth, and clothed with sufficient power to carry their 
decrees into execution. In these courts it was ex- 
pected that judges would sit who would be upright, 15 
honest, and sober men, learned in the laws of their 
country, and lovers of justice from the habitual prac- 
tice of that virtue; independent, because their salaries 
could not be reduced; and free from party passion, 
because their tenure of office was for life. Although 20 
this would place them above the clamors of the mere 
mob and beyond the reach of Executive influence, it 
was not intended that they should be wholly irre- 
sponsible. For any willful or corrupt violation of their 
duty, they are liable to be impeached; and they cannot 25 
escape the control of an enlightened public opinion, 
for they must sit with open doors, listen to full dis- 
cussion, and give satisfactory reasons for the judg- 
ments they pronounce. In ordinary tranquil times the 
citizen might feel himself safe under a judicial system 30 
so organized. 

But our wise forefathers knew that tranquillity was 
not to be always anticipated in a republic; the spirit 



142 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

of a free people is often turbulent. They expected 
that strife would rise between classes and sections, and 
even civil war might come, and they supposed that 
in such times judges themselves might not be safely 
5 trusted in criminal cases — especially in prosecutions 
for political offenses, where the whole power of the 
Executive is arrayed against the accused party. All 
history proves that public officers of any government, 
when they are engaged in a severe struggle to retain 

10 their places, become bitter and ferocious, and hate 
those who oppose them, even in the most legitimate 
way, with a rancor which they never exhibit toward 
actual crime. This kind of malignity vents itself in 
prosecutions for political offenses, sedition, con- 

15 spiracy, libel, and treason, and the charges are gener- 
ally founded upon the information of hireling spies 
and common delators, who make merchandise of their 
oaths, and trade in the blood of their fellow-men. 
During the civil commotions in England, which lasted 

20 from the beginning of the reign of Charles I. 
to the revolution of 1688, the best men and 
the purest patriots that ever lived fell by the 
hand of the public executioner. Judges were 
made the instruments for inflicting the most 

25 merciless sentences on men the latchet of whose 
shoes the ministers that prosecuted them were not 
worthy to stoop down and unloose. Let me say here 
that nothing has occurred in the history of this coun- 
try to justify the doubt of judicial integrity which our 

30 forefathers seem to have felt. On the contrary, the 
highest compliment that has ever been paid to the 
American bench is embodied in this simple fact: 
that if the Executive officers of this Govern- 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 143 

ment have ever desired to take away the life 
or the liberty of a citizen contrary to law, they 
have not come into the courts to get it done; 
they have gone outside of the courts, and stepped 
over the Constitution, and created their own tribunals, 5 
composed of men whose gross ignorance and supple 
subservience could always be relied on for those base 
uses to which no judge would ever lend himself. But 
the framers of the Constitution could act only upon 
the experience of that country whose history they 10 
knew most about, and there they saw the brutal feroc- 
ity of Jeffreys and Scroggs, the timidity of Guilford, 
and the base venality of such men as Saunders and 
Wright. It seemed necessary, therefore, not only to 
make the judiciary as perfect as possible, but to give 15 
the citizen yet another shield against the wrath and 
malice of his Government. To that end they could 
think of no better provision than a public trial before 
an impartial jury. 

I do not assert that the jury trial is an infallible 20 
mode of ascertaining truth. Like everything human, 
it has its imperfections. I only say that it is the best 
protection for innocence, and the surest mode of pun- 
ishing guilt, that has yet been discovered. It has 
borne the test of a longer experience, and borne it bet- 25 
ter than any other legal institution that ever existed 
among men. England owes more of her freedom, her 
grandeur, and her prosperity to that than to all other 
causes put together. It has had the approbation not 
only of those who lived under it, but of great thinkers 30 
who looked at it calmly from a distance, and judged it 
impartially: Montesquieu and De Tocqueville speak 
of it with an admiration as rapturous as Coke and 



144 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

Blackstone. Within the present century, the most 
enlightened states of Continental Europe have trans- 
planted it into their countries; and no people ever 
adopted it once and were afterward willing to part 
5 with it. It was only in 1830 that an interference with 
it in Belgium provoked a successful insurrection which 
permanently divided one kingdom into two. In the 
same year, the revolution of the Barricades gave the 
right of trial by jury to every Frenchman. 

10 Those colonists of this country who came from the 
British Islands brought this institution with them, and 
they regarded it as the most precious part of their in- 
heritance. The immigrants from other places, where 
trial by jury did not exist, became equally attached to 

15 it as soon as they understood what it was. There was 
no subject upon which all the inhabitants of the coun- 
try were more perfectly unanimous than they were in 
their determination to maintain this great right un- 
impaired. An attempt was made to set it aside, and 

20 substitute military trials in its place, by Lord Dun- 
more in Virginia, and General Gage in Massachusetts, 
accompanied with the excuse, which has been repeated 
so often in late days, namely, that rebellion had made 
it necessary; but it excited intense popular anger, and 

25 every colony, from New Hampshire to Georgia, made 
common cause with the two whose rights had been 
especially invaded. Subsequently the Continental 
Congress thundered it into the ear of the world, as an 
unendurable outrage, sufficient to justify universal 

30 insurrection against the authority of the Government 
which had allowed it to be done. 

If the men who fought out our revolutionary con- 
test, when they came to frame a government for them- 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 1 45 

selves and their posterity, had failed to insert a pro- 
vision making the trial by jury perpetual and univer- 
sal, they would have covered themselves all over with 
infamy as with a garment ; for they would have proved 
themselves basely recreant to the principles of that 5 
very liberty of which they professed to be the special 
champions. But they were guilty of no such treach- 
ery. They not only took care of the trial by jury, 
but they regulated every step to be taken in a crimi- 
nal triaL They knew very well that no people could 10 
be free under a government which had the power to 
punish without restraint. Hamilton expressed in The 
Federalist the universal sentiment of his time when 
he said that the arbitrary power of conviction and pun- 
ishment for pretended offenses had been the great 15 
engine of despotism in all ages and all countries. The 
existence of such a power is utterly incompatible with 
freedom. The difference between a master and his 
slave consists only in this: that the master holds the 
lash in his hands, and he may use it without legal re- 20 
straint, while the naked back of the slave is bound to 
take whatever is laid on it. 

But our fathers were not absurd enough to put un- 
limited power in the hands of the ruler, and take away 
the protection of law from the rights of individuals. 25 
It was not thus that they meant " to secure the bless- 
ings of liberty to themselves and their posterity." 
They determined that not one drop of the blood which 
had been shed on the other side of the Atlantic, dur- 
ing seven centuries of contest with arbitrary power, 30 
should sink into the ground; but the fruits of every 
popular victory should be garnered up in this new 
government. Of all the great rights already won they 



I4 6 JEREMIAH S. BLACK*. 

threw not an atom away. They went over Magna 
Charta, the Petition of Rights, the Bill of Rights, and 
the rules of the common law, and whatever was found 
there to favor individual liberty they carefully inserted 
5 in their own system, improved by clearer expression, 
strengthened by heavier sanctions, and extended by a 
more universal application. They put all those pro- 
visions into the organic law, so that neither tyranny 
in the Executive nor party rage in the Legislature 

10 could change them without destroying the Govern- 
ment itself. 

Look for a moment at the particulars, and see how 
carefully everything connected with the administra- 
tion of punitive justice is guarded. 

15 1. No ex post facto law shall be passed. No man 
shall be answerable criminally for any act which was 
not defined and made punishable as a crime by some 
law in force at the time when the act was done. 

2. For an act which is criminal he cannot be ar- 
20 rested without a judicial warrant founded on proof of 

probable cause. He shall not be kidnaped and shut 
up on the mere report of some base spy, who gathers 
the materials of a false accusation by crawling into his 
house and listening at the key-hole of his chamber 
25 door. 

3. He shall not be compelled to testify against him- 
self. He may be examined before he is committed, 
and tell his own story if he pleases; but the rack shall 
be put out of sight, and even his conscience shall not 

30 be tortured; nor shall his unpublished papers be used 
against him, as was done most wrongfully in the case 
of Algernon Sidney. 

4. He shall be entitled to a speedy trial; not kept 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 147 

in prison for an indefinite time without the opportunity 
of vindicating his innocence. 

5. He shall be informed of the accusation, its na- 
ture, and grounds. The public accuser must put the 
charge into the form of a legal indictment, so that the 5 
party can meet it full in the face. 

6. Even to the indictment he need not answer unless 
a grand jury, after hearing the evidence, shall say 
upon their oaths that they believe it to be true. 

7. Then comes the trial, and it must be before a 10 
regular court, of competent jurisdiction ordained and 
established for the State and district in which the crime 
was committed; and this shall not be evaded by a 
legislative change in the district after the crime is 
alleged to be done. 15 

8. His guilt or innocence shall be determined by an 
impartial jury. These English words are to be under- 
stood in their English sense, and they mean that the 
jurors shall be fairly selected by a sworn officer from 
among the peers of the party, residing within the local 20 
jurisdiction of the court. When they are called into 
the box he can purge the panel of all dishonesty, preju- 
dice, personal enmity, and ignorance, by a certain 
number of peremptory challenges, and as many more 
challenges as he can sustain by showing reasonable 25 
cause. 

9. The trial shall be public and open, that no under- 
hand advantage may be taken. The party shall be 
confronted with the witnesses against him, have com- 
pulsory process for his own witnesses, and be entitled 30 
to the assistance of counsel in his defense. 

10. After the evidence is heard and discussed, unless 
the jury shall, upon their oaths, unanimously agree to 



148 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

surrender him up into the hands of the court as a 
guilty man, not a hair of his head can be touched by 
way of punishment. 

n. After a verdict of guilty he is still protected. 
5 No cruel or unusual punishment shall be inflicted, nor 
any punishment at all, except what is annexed by the 
law to his offense. It cannot be doubted for a mo- 
ment that, if a person convicted of an offense not 
capital were to be hung on the order of a judge, such 

10 judge would be guilty of murder, as plainly as if he 
should come down from the bench, tuck up the sleeves 
of his gown, and let out the prisoner's blood with his 
own hand. 

12. After all is over, the law continues to spread its 

15 guardianship around him. Whether he is acquitted 
or condemned, he shall never again be molested for 
that offense. No man shall be twice put in jeopardy 
of life or limb for the same cause. 

These rules apply to all criminal prosecutions. But, 

20 in addition to these, certain special regulations were 
required for treason — the one great political charge 
under which more innocent men have fallen than any 
other. A tyrannical government calls everybody a 
traitor who shows the least unwillingness to be a slave. 

25 The party in power never fails, when it can, to stretch 
the law on that subject by construction, so as to cover 
its honest and conscientious opponents. In the ab- 
sence of a constitutional provision, it was justly feared 
that statutes might be passed which would put the 

30 lives of the most patriotic citizens at the mercy of the 
basest minions that skulk about under the pay of the 
Executive. Therefore a definition of treason was 
given in the fundamental law, and the legislative au- 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 149 

thority could not enlarge it to serve the purpose of 
partisan malice. The nature and amount of evidence 
required to prove the crime was also prescribed, so 
that prejudice and enmity might have no share in the 
conviction. And, lastly, the punishment was so 5 
limited that the property of the party could not be con- 
fiscated, and used to reward the agents of his perse- 
cutors, or strip his family of their subsistence. 

If these provisions exist in full force, unchangeable 
and irrepealable, then we are not hereditary bonds- 10 
men. Every citizen may safely pursue his lawful call- 
ing in the open day; and at night, if he is conscious 
of innocence, he may lie down in security and sleep the 
sound sleep of a freeman. 

I say they are in force, and they will remain in force. 15 
We have not surrendered them, and we never will. 
If the worst comes to the worst we will look to the liv- 
ing God for his help, and defend our rights and the 
rights of our children to the last extremity. Those 
men who think we can be subjected and abjected to the 20 
condition of mere slaves are wholly mistaken. The 
great race to which we belong has not degenerated so 
fatally. 

But how am I to prove the existence of these rights? 
I do not propose to do it by a long chain of legal argu- 25 
mentation, nor by the production of numerous books 
with the leaves dog-eared and the pages marked. 
If it depended upon judicial precedents, I think 
I could produce as many as might be necessary. 
If I claimed this freedom, under any kind of prescrip- 30 
tion, I could prove a good long possession in our- 
selves and those under whom we claim it. I might 
begin with Tacitus and show how the contest arose 



150 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

in the forests of Germany more than two thousand 
years ago; how the rough virtues and sound common 
sense of that people established the right of trial by 
jury, and thus started on a career which has made 
5 their posterity the foremost race that ever lived in all 
the tide of time. The Saxons carried it to England, 
and were ever ready to defend it with their blood. It 
was crushed out by the Danish invasion; and all that 
they suffered of tyranny and oppression during the 

io period of their subjugation resulted from the want of 
trial by jury. If that had been conceded to them, 
the reaction would not have taken place which drove 
back the Danes to their frozen homes in the North. 
But those ruffian sea-kings could not understand that, 

15 and the reaction came. Alfred, the greatest of revo- 
lutionary heroes, and the wisest monarch that ever 
sat on a throne, made the first use of his power, after 
the Saxons restored it, to re-establish their ancient 
laws. He had promised them that he would, and he 

20 was true to them, because they had been true to him. 
But it was not easily done ; the courts were opposed to 
it, for it limited their power — a kind of power that 
everybody covets — the power to punish without re- 
gard to law. He was obliged to hang forty-four 

25 judges in one year for refusing to give his subjects a 
trial by jury. When the historian says that he hung 
them, it is not meant that he put them to death with- 
out a trial. He had them impeached before the grand 
council of the nation, the Wittenagemote, the Parlia- 

30 ment of that time. During the subsequent period of 
Saxon domination no man on English soil was power- 
ful enough to refuse a legal trial to the meanest peas- 
ant. If any minister or any king, in war or in peace, 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 15 1 

had dared to punish a freeman by a tribunal of his own 
appointment, he would have roused the wrath of the 
whole population; all orders of society would have re- 
sisted it; lord and vassal, knight and squire, priest and 
penitent, bocman and socman, master and thrall, copy- 5 
holder and villein, would have risen in one mass and 
burned the offender to death in his castle, or followed 
him in his flight and torn him to atoms. It was again 
trampled down by the Norman conquerors; but the 
evils resulting from the want of it united all classes in 10 
the effort which compelled King John to restore it by 
the Great Charter. Everybody is familiar with the 
struggles which the English people, during many gen- 
erations, made for their rights with the Plantagenets, 
the Tudors, and the Stuarts, and which ended finally 15 
in the revolution of 1688, when the liberties of Eng- 
land were placed upon an impregnable basis by the 
Bill of Rights. 

Many times the attempt was made to stretch the 
royal authority far enough to justify military trials 520 
but it never had more than temporary success. Five 
hundred years ago Edward IT. closed up a great rebel- 
lion by taking the life of its leader, the Earl of Lan- 
caster, after trying him before a military court. 
Eight years later that same king, together with his 25 
lords and commons in Parliament assembled, acknowl- 
edged with shame and sorrow that the execution of 
Lancaster was a mere murder, because the courts were 
open and he might have had a legal trial. Queen 
Elizabeth, for sundry reasons affecting the safety of 30 
the State, ordered that certain offenders not of her 
army should be tried according to the law martial. 
But she heard the storm of popular vengeance rising, 



152 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

and, haughty, imperious, self-willed as she was, she 
yielded the point; for she knew that upon that subject 
the English people would never consent to be trifled 
with. Strafford, as Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, tried 
5 the Viscount Stormont before a military commission. 
When impeached for it, he pleaded in vain that Ire- 
land was in a state of insurrection, that Stormont was 
a traitor, and the army would be undone if it could 
not defend itself without appealing to the civil courts. 

10 The Parliament was deaf; the king himself could not 
save him; he was condemned to suffer death as a 
traitor and a murderer. Charles I. issued commis- 
sions to divers officers for the trial of his enemies ac- 
cording to the course of military law. If rebellion 

15 ever was an excuse for such an act, he could surely 
have pleaded it; for there was scarcely a spot in his 
kingdom, from sea to sea, where the royal authority 
was not disputed by somebody. Yet the Parliament 
demanded in their Petition of Right, and the king was 

20 obliged to concede, that all his commissions were ille- 
gal. James II. claimed the right to suspend the 
operation of the penal laws — a power which the 
courts denied; but the experience of his predecessors 
taught him that he could not suspend any man's right 

25 to a trial. He could easily have convicted the seven 
bishops of any offense he saw fit to charge them with, 
if he could have selected their judges from among the 
mercenary creatures to whom he had given com- 
mands in his army. But this he dared not do. He 

30 was obliged to send the bishops to a jury and endure 
the mortification of seeing them acquitted. He, too, 
might have had rebellion for an excuse, if rebellion be 
an excuse. The conspiracy was already ripe, which a 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 153 

few months afterward made him an exile and an out- 
cast; he had reason to believe that the Prince of 
Orange was making his preparations on the other side 
of the Channel to invade the kingdom, where thou- 
sands burned to join him; nay, he pronounced the 5 
bishops guilty of rebellion by the very act for which 
he arrested them. He had raised an army to meet the 
rebellion, and he was on Hounslow Heath, reviewing 
the troops organized for that purpose, when he heard 
the great shout of joy that went up from Westminster 10 
Hall, was echoed back from Temple Bar, spread 
down the city and over the Thames, and rose from 
every vessel on the river — the simultaneous shout of 
two hundred thousand men for the triumph of justice 
and law. 15 

If it were worth the time, I might detain you by 
showing how this subject was treated by the French 
Court of Cassation, in Geoffroy's case, under the Con- 
stitution of 1830, when a military judgment was un- 
hesitatingly pronounced to be void, though ordered 20 
by the king, after a proclamation declaring Paris in a 
state of siege. Fas est ab hoste doceri: we may lawfully 
learn something from our enemies — at all events, we 
should blush at the thought of not being equal on such 
a subject to the courts of Virginia, Georgia, Mississ- 25 
ippi, and Texas, whose decisions, my colleague, Gen- 
eral Garfield, has read and commented on. 

The truth is, that no authority exists anywhere in 
the world for the doctrine of the Attorney-General. 
No judge or jurist, no statesman or parliamentary 30 
orator, on this or the other side of the water, sustains 
him. Every elementary writer from Coke to Wharton 
is against him. All military authors, who profess to 



iS4 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

know the duties of their profession, admit themselves 
to be under, not above, the laws. No book can be 
found in any library to justify the assertion that mili- 
tary tribunals may try a citizen at a place where the 
5 courts are open. When I say no book, I mean, of 
course, no book of acknowledged authority. I do not 
deny that hireling clergymen have often been found to 
disgrace the pulpit by trying to prove the divine right 
of kings and other rulers to govern as they please. It 

10 is true, also, that court sycophants and party hacks 
have many times written pamphlets, and perhaps large 
volumes, to show that those whom they serve should 
be allowed to work out their bloody will upon the peo- 
ple. No abuse of power is too flagrant to find 

15 its defenders among such servile creatures. Those 
butchers' dogs, that feed upon garbage and fatten 
upon the offal of the shambles, are always ready to 
bark at whatever interferes with the trade of their 
master. 

20 But this case does not depend on authority. It is 
rather a question of fact than of law. 

I prove my right to a trial by jury, just as I would 
prove my title to an estate if I held in my hand a 
solemn deed conveying it to me, coupled with unde- 

25 niable evidence of long and undisturbed possession 
under and according to the deed. There is the 
charter by which we claim to hold it. It is called the 
Constitution of the United States. It is signed by the 
sacred name of George Washington, and by thirty- 

30 nine other names, only less illustrious than his. They 
represented every independent State then upon this 
continent, and each State afterward ratified their work 
by a separate convention of its own people. Every 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 15 5 

State that subsequently came in acknowledged that 
this was the great standard by which their rights were 
to be measured. Every man that has ever held office 
in this country, from that time to this, has taken an 
oath that he would support and sustain it through good 5 
report and through evil. The Attorney-General him- 
self became a party to the instrument when he laid 
his hand upon the Gospel of God and solemnly swore 
that he would give to me and every other citizen the 
full benefit of all it contains. 10 

What does it contain? This among other things: 

" The trial of all crimes except in cases of impeach- 
ment shall be by jury." 

Again: " No person shall be held to answer for a 
capital or otherwise infamous crime unless on a pre- 15 
sentment or indictment of a grand jury, except in 
cases arising in the land and n~val forces, or in the 
militia when in actual service in time of war or pub- 
lic danger; nor shall any person be subject for the 
same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb, 20 
nor be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness 
against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or 
property without due process of law; nor shall private 
property be taken for public use without just com- 
pensation." 25 

This is not all; another article declares that " in all 
criminal prosecutions the accused shall enjoy the right 
to a speedy and public trial, by an'impartial jury of the 
State and district wherein* the crime shall have been 
committed, which district shall have been previously 30 
ascertained by law; and to be informed of the nature 
and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the 
witnesses against him; to have compulsory process 



156 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

for the witnesses in his favor, and to have the assist- 
ance of counsel for his defense." 

Is there any ambiguity there? If that does not sig- 
nify that a jury trial shall be the exclusive and only 
5 means of ascertaining guilt in criminal cases, then I 
demand to know what words or what collocation of 
words in the English language would have that effect? 
Does this mean that a fair, open, speedy, public trial 
by an impartial jury shall be given only to those per- 

10 sons against whom no special grudge is felt by the 
Attorney-General, or the Judge-Advocate, or the head 
of a department? Shall this inestimable privilege be 
extended only to men whom the administration does 
not care to convict? Is it confined to vulgar crimi- 

15 nals, who commit ordinary crimes against society, and 
shall it be denied to men who are accused of such 
offenses as those for which Sidney and Russell were 
beheaded, and Alice Lisle was hung, and Elizabeth 
Gaunt was burned alive, and John Bunyan was im- 

20 prisoned fourteen years, and Baxter was whipped at 
the cart's tail, and Prynne had his ears cut off? No; 
the words of the Constitution are all-embracing — 

"As broad and general as the casing air." 

The trial of ALL crimes shall be by jury. ALL 
25 persons accused shall enjoy that privilege — and NO 
person shall be held to answer in any other way. 

That would be sufficient without more. But there 
is another consideration which gives it tenfold power. 
It is a universal rule of construction that general 
30 words in any instrument, though they may be weak- 
ened by enumeration, are always strengthened by ex- 
ceptions. Here is no attempt to enumerate the 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 157 

particular cases in which men charged with criminal 
offenses shall be entitled to a jury trial. It is simply 
declared that all shall have it. But that is coupled 
with a statement of two specific exceptions: cases of 
impeachment, and cases arising in the land or naval 5 
forces. These exceptions strengthen the application 
of the general rule to all other cases. Where the law- 
giver himself has declared when and in what circum- 
stances you may depart from the general rule, you 
shall not presume to leave that onward path for other 10 
reasons, and make different exceptions. To excep- 
tions, the maxim is always applicable, that expressio 
anius exchisio est alterius. 

But we are answered that the judgment under con- 
sideration was pronounced in time of war, and it is 15 
therefore, at least morally, excusable. There may, or 
there may not be something in that. I admit that the 
merits or demerits of any particular act, whether it in- 
volve a violation of the Constitution or not, depend 
upon the motives that prompted it, the time, the occa- 20 
sion, and all the attending circumstances. When the 
people of this country come to decide upon the acts 
of their rulers, they will take all these things into con- 
sideration. But that presents the political aspect of 
the case, with which, I trust, we have nothing to do 25 
here. I decline to discuss it. I would only say, in 
order to prevent misapprehension, that I think it is 
precisely in a time of war and civil commotion that we 
should double the guards upon the Constitution. If 
the sanitary regulations which defend the health of a 30 
city are ever to be relaxed, it ought certainly not to be 
done when pestilence is abroad. When the Mississ- 
ippi shrinks within its natural channel, and creeps 



158 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

lazily along the bottom, the inhabitants of the adjoin- 
ing shore have no need of a dike to save them from 
inundation. But when the booming flood comes 
down from above, and swells into a volume which rises 
5 high above the plain on either side, then a crevasse in 
the levee becomes a most serious thing. So in peace- 
able and quiet times our legal rights are in little dan- 
ger of being overborne; but when the wave of arbi- 
trary power lashes itself into violence and rage, and 

10 goes surging up against the barriers which are made 
to confine it, then we need the whole strength of an 
unbroken Constitution to save us from destruction. 
But this is a question which properly belongs to the 
jurisdiction of the stump and the newspaper. 

15 There is another quasi-political argument — neces- 
sity. If the law was violated because it could not be 
obeyed, that might be an excuse. But no absolute 
compulsion is pretended here. These commissioners 
acted, at most, under what they regarded as a moral 

20 necessity. The choice was left them to obey the law 

-or disobey it. The disobedience was only necessary 

as means to an end which they thought desirable ; and 

now they assert that though these means are unlawful 

and wrong, they are made right, because without them 

25 the object could not be accomplished; in other words, 
the end justifies the means. There you have a rule of 
conduct denounced by all law, human and divine, as 
being pernicious in policy and false in morals. See 
how it applies to this case. Here were three men 

30 whom it was desirable to remove out of this world, 
but there was no proof on which any court would 
take their lives; therefore it was necessary, and being 
necessary it was right and proper, to create an illegal 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 159 

tribunal which would put them to death without proof. 
By the same mode of reasoning you can prove it 
equally right to poison them in their food or stab 
them in their sleep. 

Nothing that the worst men ever propounded has 5 
produced so much oppression, misgovernment, and 
suffering as this pretense of State necessity. A great 
authority calls it " the tyrant's devilish plea " ; and the 
common honesty of all mankind has branded it with 
everlasting infamy. 10 

Of course, it is mere absurdity to say that these re- 
lators were necessarily deprived of their right to a fair 
and legal trial, for the record shows that a court of 
competent jurisdiction was sitting at the very time and 
in the same town, where justice would have been done 15 
without sale, denial, or delay. But concede, for the 
argument's sake, that a trial by jury was wholly im- 
possible; admit that there was an absolute, overwhelm- 
ing, imperious necessity operating so as literally to 
compel every act which the commissioners did: would 20 
that give their sentence of death the validity and force 
of a legal judgment pronounced by an ordained and es- 
tablished court? The question answers itself. This 
trial was a violation of law, and no necessity could be 
more than a mere excuse for those who committed it. 25 
If the commissioners were on trial for murder or con- 
spiracy to murder, they might plead necessity if the 
fact were true, just as they would plead insanity or 
anything else to show that their guilt was not willful. 
But we are now considering the legal effect of their 30 
decision, and that depends on their legal authority to 
make it. They had no such authority; they usurped 
a jurisdiction which the law not only did not give them, 



i6° JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

but expressly forbade them to exercise, and it follows 
that their act is void, whatever may have been the real 
or supposed excuse for it. 

If these commissioners, instead of aiming at the life 
5 and liberty of the relators, had attempted to deprive 
them of their property by a sentence of confiscation, 
would any court in Christendom declare that such a 
sentence divested the title?- Or would a person claim- 
ing under the sentence make his right any better by 

10 showing that the illegal assumption of jurisdiction was 
accompanied by some excuse which might save the 
commissioners from a criminal prosecution? 

Let me illustrate still further. Suppose you, the 
judges of this court, to be surrounded in the hall where 

15 you are sitting by a body of armed insurgents, and 
compelled by main force to pronounce sentence of 
death upon the President of the United States for 
some act of his upon which you have no legal au- 
thority to adjudicate. There would be a valid sen- 

20 tence if necessity alone could create jurisdiction. But 
could the President be legally executed under it? 
No; the compulsion under which you acted would be 
a good defense for you against an impeachment or an 
indictment for murder, but it would add nothing to the 

25 validity of a judgment which the law forbade you to 
give. 

That a necessity for violating the law is nothing 
more than a mere excuse to the perpetrator, and does 
not in any legal sense change the quality of the act 

30 itself in its operation upon other parties, is a proposi- 
tion too plain on original principles to need the aid of 
authority. I do not see how any man of common sense 
is to stand up and dispute it. But there is decisive 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 161 

authority upon the point. In 1815, at New Orleans, 
General Jackson took upon himself the command of 
every person in the city, suspended the functions of 
all the civil authorities, and made his own will for a 
time the only rule of conduct. It was believed to be 5 
absolutely necessary. Judges, officers of the city cor- 
poration, and members of the State Legislature 
insisted on it as the only way to save the " booty and 
beauty " of the place from the unspeakable outrages 
committed at Badajos and St. Sebastian by the very 10 
same troops then marching to the attack. Jackson 
used the power thus taken by him moderately, spar- 
ingly, benignly, and only for the purpose of prevent- 
ing mutiny in his camp. A single mutineer was re- 
strained by a short confinement, and another was sent 15 
four miles up the river. But, after he had saved the 
city, and the danger was all over, he stood before the 
court to be tried by the law; his conduct was decided 
to be illegal by the same judge who had declared it to 
be necessary, and he paid the penalty without a mur- 20 
mur. The Supreme Court of Louisiana, in Johnson 
vs. Duncan, decided that everything done during the 
siege in pursuance of martial rule, but in conflict with 
the law of the land, was void and of none effect, with- 
out reference to the circumstances which made it nee- 25 
essary. Long afterward the fine imposed upon 
Jackson was refunded, because his friends, while they 
admitted him to have violated the law, insisted that 
the necessity which drove him to it ought to have 
saved him from the punishment due only to a willful 30 
offender. 

The learned counsel on the other side will not assert 
that there was war at Indianapolis in 1864, for they 



162 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

have read " Coke's Institute," and Judge Grier's opin- 
ion in the prize cases, and of course they know it to be 
a settled rule that war cannot be said to exist where 
the civil courts are open. They will not set up the 
5 absurd plea of necessity, for they are well aware that 
it would not be true in point of fact. They will hardly 
take the ground that any kind of necessity could give 
legal validity to that which the law forbids. 

This, therefore, must be their position: That al- 
io though there was no war at the place where this com- 
mission sat, and no actual necessity for it, yet if there 
was a war anywhere else, to which the United States 
were a party, the technical effect of such war was to 
take the jurisdiction away from the civil courts and 
15 transfer it to army officers. 

General Butler : We do not take that position. 
Mr. Black: Then they can take no ground at all, 
for nothing else is left. I do not wonder to see them 
recoil from their own doctrine when its nakedness is 
20 held up to their eyes. But they must stand upon that 
or give up their cause. They may not state their propo- 
sition precisely as I state it; that is too plain a way of 
putting it. But, in substance, it is their doctrine — 
has been the doctrine of the Attorney-General's office 
25 ever since the advent of the present incumbent — and 
is the doctrine of their brief, printed and filed in this 
case. What else can they say? They will admit that 
the Constitution is not altogether without a meaning; 
that at a time of universal peace it imposes some kind 
30 of obligation upon those who swear to support it. 
If no war existed they would not deny the exclusive 
jurisdiction of the civil courts in criminal cases. How, 
then, did the military get jurisdiction in Indiana? 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 163 

All men who hold the Attorney-General's opinion 
to be true answer the question I have put by saying 
that military jurisdiction comes from the mere exist- 
ence of war; and it comes in Indiana only as the legal 
result of a war which is going on in Mississippi, Ten- 5 
nessee, or South Carolina. The Constitution is re- 
pealed, or its operation suspended, in one State be- 
cause there is war in another. The courts are open, 
the organization of society is intact, the judges are on 
the bench, and their process is not impeded; but their 10 
jurisdiction is gone. Why? Because, say our oppo- 
nents, war exists, and the silent, legal, technical opera- 
tion of that fact is to deprive all American citizens of 
their right to a fair trial. 

That class of jurists and statesmen, who hold that 15 
the trial by jury is lost to the citizen during the ex- 
istence of war, carry out their doctrine, theoretically 
and practically, to its ultimate consequences. The 
right of trial by jury being gone, all other rights are 
gone with it; therefore a man may be arrested without 20 
an accusation, and kept in prison during the pleasure 
of his captors; his papers may be searched without a 
warrant; his property may be confiscated behind his 
back, and he has no earthly means of redress. Nay, 
an attempt to get a just remedy is construed as a new 25 
crime. He dare not even complain, for the right of 
free speech is gone with the rest of his rights. If you 
sanction that doctrine, what is to be the consequence? 
I do not speak of what is past and gone ; but in case of 
a future war, what results will follow from your de- 30 
cision indorsing the Attorney-General's views? They 
are very obvious. At the instant when war begins, 
our whole system of legal government will tumble into 



1 64 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

ruin, and if we are not all robbed, and kidnaped, and 
hanged, and drawn, and quartered, we will owe our 
immunity, not to the Constitution and laws, but to the 
mere mercy or policy of those persons who may then 
5 happen to control the organized physical force of the 
country. 

This certainly puts us in a most precarious con- 
dition; we must have war about half the time, do what 
we may to avoid it. The President or Congress can 

10 wantonly provoke a war whenever it suits the purpose 
of either to do so; and they can keep it going as long 
as they please, even after the actual conflict of arms is 
over. When Peace wooes them they can ignore her ex- 
istence; and thus they can make war a chronic condition 

15 of the country, and the slavery of the people perpetual. 
Nay, we are at the mercy of any foreign potentate who 
may envy us the possession of those liberties which 
we boast of so much; he can shatter our Constitution 
without striking a single blow or bringing a gun to 

20 bear upon us. A simple declaration of hostilities is 
more terrible to us than an army with banners. 

To me this seems the wildest delusion that ever took 
possession of a human brain. If there be one princi- 
ple of political ethics more universally acknowledged 

25 than another, it is that war, and especially civil war, 
can be justified only when it is undertaken to vindi- 
cate and uphold the legal and constitutional rights of 
the people; not to trample them down. He who car- 
ries on a system of wholesale slaughter for any other 

30 purpose must stand without excuse before God or man. 
In a time of war, more than at any other time, public 
liberty is in the hands of the public officers. And she 
is there in double trust: first, as they are citizens, and 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 165 

therefore bound to defend her by the common obliga- 
tion of all citizens; and, next, as they are her special 
guardians — 

" Who should against her murderers shut the door, 

Not bear the knife themselves." 5 

The opposing argument, when turned into plain Eng- 
lish, means this, and this only: that when the Consti- 
tution is attacked upon one side, its official guardians 
may assail it upon the other; when rebellion strikes it 
in the face, they may take advantage of the blindness 10 
produced by the blow to sneak behind it and stab it. 
in the back. 

The convention when it framed the Constitution, 
and the people when they adopted it, could have had 
no thought like that. If they had supposed that it 15 
would operate only while perfect peace continued, they 
certainly would have given us some other rule to go 
by in time of war; they would not have left us to wan- 
der about in a howling wilderness of anarchy, without 
a lamp to our feet, or a guide to our path. Another 20 
thing proves their actual intent still more strikingly. 
They required that every man in any kind of public 
employment, State or national, civil or military, should 
swear, without reserve or qualification, that he would 
support the Constitution. Surely our ancestors had 25 
too much regard for the moral and religious welfare 
of their posterity to impose upon them an oath like 
that, if they intended and expected it to be broken half 
the time. The oath of an officer to support the Con- 
stitution is as simple as that of a witness to tell the 30 
truth in a court of justice. What would you think of 
a witness who should attempt to justify perjury upon 
the ground that he had testified when civil war was 



166 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

raging, and he thought that by swearing to a lie he 
might promote some public or private object con- 
nected with the strife? 
No, no, the great men who made this country what it 
5 is — the heroes who won her independence, and the 
statesmen who settled her institutions — had no such 
notions in their minds. Washington deserved the 
lofty praise bestowed upon him by the President of 
Congress when he resigned his commission — that he 

10 had always regarded the rights of the civil authority 
through all changes and through all disasters. When 
his duty as President afterward required him to arm 
the public force to suppress a rebellion in Western 
Pennsylvania, he never thought that the Constitution 

15 was abolished, by virtue of that fact, in New Jersey, 
or Maryland, or Virginia. It would have been a dan- 
gerous experiment for an adviser of his at that time, 
or at any time, to propose that he should deny a citi- 
zen his right to be tried by a jury, and substitute in 

20 place of it a trial before a tribunal composed of men 
elected by himself from among his own creatures and 
dependents. You can well imagine how that great 
heart would have swelled with indignation at the bare 
thought of such an insulting outrage upon the liberty 

25 and law of his country. 

In the war of 1812, the man emphatically called the 
Father of the Constitution was the supreme Executive 
Magistrate. Talk of perilous times! There was the 
severest trial this Union ever saw. That was no half- 

30 organized rebellion on the one side of the conflict, to 
be crushed by the hostile millions and unbounded re- 
sources of the other. The existence of the nation was 
threatened by the most formidable military and naval 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 167 

power then upon the face of the earth, Every town 
upon the northern frontier, upon the Atlantic seaboard, 
and upon the Gulf coast was in daily and hourly dan- 
ger. The enemy had penetrated the heart of Ohio. 
New York, Pennsylvania, and Virginia were all of 5 
them threatened from the west as well as the east. 
This Capitol was taken, and burned, and pillaged, and 
every member of the Federal Administration was a 
fugitive before the invading army. Meanwhile, party 
spirit was breaking out into actual treason all over 10 
New England. Four of those States refused to fur- 
nish a man or a dollar even for their own defense. 
Their public authorities were plotting the dismember- 
ment of the Union, and individuals among them were 
burning blue-lights upon the coast as a signal to the 15 
enemy's ships. But in all this storm of disaster, with 
foreign war in his front, and domestic treason on his 
flank, Madison gave out no sign that he would aid Old 
England and New England to break up this Govern- 
ment of laws. On the contrary, he and all his sup- 20 
porters, though compassed round with darkness and 
with danger, stood faithfully between the Constitution 
and its enemies 

" To shield it and save it, or perish there, too." 

The framers of the Constitution and all their con- 25 
temporaries died and were buried; their children suc- 
ceeded them and continued on the stage of public 
affairs until they, too, 

" Lived out their lease of life, and paid their breath 

To time and mortal custom " ; 30 

and a third generation was already far on its way to the 
grave before this monstrous doctrine was conceived 



1 68 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

or thought of, that public officers all over the country 
might disregard their oaths whenever a war or a re- 
bellion was commenced. 

Our friends on the other side are quite conscious that 
5 when they deny the binding obligation of the Consti- 
tution they must put some other system of law in its 
place. Their brief gives notice that, while the Consti- 
tution, and the acts of Congress, and Magna Charta, 
and the common law, and all the rules of natural jus- 

io tice shall remain under foot, they will try American 
citizens according to the law of nations! But the law 
of nations takes no notice of the subject. If that sys- 
tem did contain a special provision that a government 
might hang one of its own citizens without a judge 

15 or jury, it would still be competent for the American 
people to say, as they have said, that no such thing 
should ever be done here. That is my answer to the 
law of nations. 

But then they tell us that the laws of war must be 

20 treated as paramount. Here they become mysterious. 
Do they mean that code of public law which defines 
the duties of two belligerent parties to one another, 
and regulates the intercourse of neutrals with both? 
If yes, then it is simply a recurrence to the law of 

25 nations, which has nothing on earth to do* with the 
subject. Do they mean that portion of our municipal 
code which defines our duties to the Government in 
war as well as in peace? Then they are speaking of 
the Constitution and laws, which declare in plain words 

30 that the Government owes every citizen a fair legal trial, 
as much as the citizen owes obedience to the Govern- 
ment. They are in search of an argument under diffi- 
culties. When they appeal to international law, it is 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 169 

silent; and when they interrogate the law of the land, 
the answer is an unequivocal contradiction of their 
whole theory. 

The Attorney-General tells us that all persons whom 
he and his associates choose to denounce for giving aid 5 
to the rebellion are to be treated as being themselves 
a part of the rebellion — they are public enemies, and 
therefore they may be punished without being found 
guilty by a competent court or a jury. This conven- 
ient rule would outlaw every citizen the moment he is 10 
charged with a political offense. But political offend- 
ers are precisely the class of persons who most need 
the protection of a court and jury, for the prosecu- 
tions against them are most likely to be unfounded 
both in fact and in law. Whether innocent or guilty, 15 
to accuse is to convict them before the ignorant and 
bigoted men who generally sit in military courts. But 
this court decided in the prize cases that all who live 
in the enemy's territory are public enemies, without 
regard to their personal sentiments or conduct ; and 20 
the converse of the proposition is equally true— that 
all who reside inside of our own territory are to be 
treated as under the protection of the law. If they 
help the enemy they are criminals, but they cannot be 
punished without legal conviction. 25 

You have heard much (and you will hear more very 
soon) concerning the natural and inherent right of the 
Government to defend itself without regard to law. 
This is wholly fallacious. In a despotism the auto- 
crat is unrestricted in the means he may use for the 30 
defense of his authority against the opposition of his 
own subjects or others; and that is precisely what 
makes him a despot. But in a limited monarchy the 



17° JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

prince must confine himself to a legal defense of his 
government. If he goes beyond that, and commits 
aggressions on the rights of the people, he breaks the 
social compact, releases his subjects from all their 
5 obligations to him, renders himself liable to be hurled 
from his throne, and dragged to the block or driven 
into exile. This principle was sternly enforced in the 
cases of Charles I. and James II., and we have it an- 
nounced on the highest official authority here that the 

io Queen of England cannot ring a little bell on her table 
and cause a man by her arbitrary order to be arrested 
under any pretense whatever. If that be true there, 
how much more true must it be here, where we have 
no personal sovereign, and where our only Govern- 

15 ment is the Constitution and laws. A violation of 
law, on pretense of saving such a Government as ours, 
is not self-preservation, but suicide. 

Salus populi suprema lex. Observe it is not salus 
regis; the safety of the people, not the safety of the 

20 ruler, is the supreme law. When those who hold the 
authority of the Government in their hands behave 
in such manner as to put the liberties and rights of 
the people in jeopardy, the people may rise against 
them and overthrow them without regard to that law 

25 which requires obedience to them. The maxim is 
revolutionary, and expresses simply the right to resist 
tyranny without regard to prescribed forms. It can 
never be used to stretch the powers of government 
against the people. 

30 If this Government of ours has no power to defend 
itself without violating its own laws, it carries the seeds 
of destruction in its own bosom; it is a poor, weak, 
blind, staggering thing, and the sooner it tumbles over 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 17 * 

the better. But it has a most efficient legal mode of 
protecting itself against all possible danger. It is 
clothed from head to foot in a complete panoply of 
defensive armor. What are the perils which may 
threaten its existence? I am not able at this moment 5 
to think of more than these which I am about to 
mention: foreign invasion, domestic insurrection, 
mutiny in the Army and Navy, corruption in the 
civil administration, and last, but not least, criminal 
violations of its laws committed by individuals among 10 
the body of the people. Have we not a legal mode of 
defense against all these? Yes: military force repels 
invasion and suppresses insurrection; you preserve 
discipline in the Army and Navy by means of courts- 
martial ; you preserve the purity of the civil adminis- 15 
tration by impeaching dishonest magistrates; and 
crimes are prevented and punished by the regular 
judicial authorities. You are not merely compelled 
to use these weapons against your enemies, because 
they and they only are justified by the law: you ought 20 
to use them because they are more efficient than any 
other, and less liable to be abused. 

There is another view of the subject which settles 
all controversy about it. No human being in this 
country can exercise any kind of public authority 25 
which is not conferred by law; and under the United 
States it must be given by the express words of a 
written statute. Whatever is not so given is withheld, 
and the exercise of it is positively prohibited. Courts- 
martial in the Army and Navy are authorized; they 30 
are legal institutions; their jurisdiction is limited, and 
their whole code of procedure is regulated by act of 
Congress. Upon the civil courts all the jurisdiction 



172 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

they have or can have is bestowed by law; and if one 
of them goes beyond what is written, its action is 
ultra vires and void. But a military commission is not 
a court-martial, and it is not a civil court. It is not 

5 governed by the law which is made for either, and has 
no law of its own. Within the last five years we have 
seen, for the first time, self-constituted tribunals not 
only assuming power which the law did not give them, 
but thrusting aside the regular courts to which the 

10 power was exclusively given. 

What is the consequence? This terrible authority 
is wholly undefined, and its exercise is without any 
legal control. Undelegated power is always un- 
limited. The field that lies outside of the Constitution 

15 and laws has no boundary. Thierry, the French his- 
torian of England, says that when the crown and 
scepter were offered to Cromwell he hesitated for 
several days, and answered, " Do not make me a king; 
for then my hands will be tied up by the laws which 

20 define the duties of that office; but make me protector 
of the Commonwealth, and I can do what I please; 
no statute restraining and limiting the royal preroga- 
tive will apply to me." So these commissions have 
no legal origin and no legal name by which they are 

25 known among the children of men; no law applies to 
them; and they exercise all power for the paradoxical 
reason that none belongs to them rightfully. 

Ask the Attorney-General what rules apply to mili- 
tary commissions in the exercise of their assumed au- 

30 thority over civilians. Come, Mr. Attorney, " gird up 
thy loins now like a man; I will demand of thee, and 
thou shalt declare unto me if thou hast understand- 
ing." How is a military commission organized? 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 173 

What shall be the number and rank of its members? 
What offenses come within its jurisdiction? What is 
its code of procedure? How shall witnesses be com- 
pelled to attend it? Is it perjury for a witness to 
swear falsely? What is the function of the Judge- 5 
Advocate? Does he tell the members how they must 
find, or does he only persuade them to convict? Is he 
the agent of the Government, to command them what 
evidence they shall admit and what sentence they shall 
pronounce ; or does he always carry his point, right or 10 
wrong, by the mere force of eloquence and ingenuity? 
What is the nature of their punishment? May they 
confiscate property and levy fines as well as imprison 
and kill? In addition to strangling their victim, may 
they also deny him the last consolations of religion, 15 
and refuse his family the melancholy privilege of giv- 
ing him a decent grave? 

To none of these questions can the Attorney-Gen- 
eral make a reply, for there is no law on the subject. 
He will not attempt to " darken counsel by words 20 
without knowledge," and therefore, like Job, he can 
only lay his hand upon his mouth and keep silence. 

The power exercised through those military com- 
missions is not only unregulated by law, but it is in- 
capable of being so regulated. What is it that you 25 
claim, Mr. Attorney? I will give you a definition, the 
correctness of which you will not attempt to gainsay. 
You assert the right of the Executive Government, 
without the intervention of the judiciary, to capture, 
imprison, and kill any person to whom that Govern- 30 
ment or its paid dependents may choose to impute an 
offense. This, in its very essence, is despotic and law- 
less. It is never claimed or tolerated except by those 



174 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

governments which deny the restraints of all law. It 
has been exercised by the great and small oppressors 
of mankind ever since the days of Nimrod. It 
operates in different ways; the tools it uses are not 
5 always the same; it hides its hideous features under 
many disguises; it assumes every variety of form; 

" It can change shapes with Proteus for advantages, 
And set the murderous Machiavel to school." 

But in all its mutations of outward appearance it is 

io still identical in principle, object, and origin. It is 
always the same great engine of despotism which 
Hamilton described it to be. 

Under the old French monarchy the favorite fash- 
ion of it was a lettre de cachet, signed by the king, and 

i5 this would consign the party to a loathsome dungeon 
until he died, forgotten by all the world. An imperial 
ukase will answer the same purpose in Russia. The 
most faithful subject of that amiable autocracy may 
lie down in the evening to dream of his future pros- 

20 perity, and before daybreak he will find himself be- 
tween two dragoons on his way to the mines of Si- 
beria. In Turkey the verbal order of the Sultan or 
any of his powerful favorites will cause a man to be 
tied up in a sack and cast into the Bosphorus. Nero 

25 accused Peter and Paul of spreading a " pestilent 
superstition," which they called the Gospel. He heard 
their defense in person, and sent them to the cross. 
Afterward he tried the whole Christian Church in one 
body, on a charge of setting fire to the city, and he 

30 convicted them, though he knew not only that they 
were innocent, but that he himself had committed the 
crime. The judgment was followed by instant exe- 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 175 

cution; he let loose the Praetorian guards upon men, 
women, and children, to drown, butcher, and burn 
them. Herod saw fit, for good political reasons, 
closely affecting the permanence of his reign in Judea, 
to punish certain possible traitors in Bethlehem by 5 
anticipation. This required the death of all the chil- 
dren in that city under two years of age. He issued 
his "general order"; and his provost-marshal car- 
ried it out with so much alacrity and zeal that in one 
day the whole land was filled with mourning and 10 
lamentation. 

Macbeth understood the whole philosophy of the 
subject. He was an unlimited monarch. His power 
to punish for any offense or for no offense at all was 
as broad as that which the Attorney-General claims 15 
for himself and his brother officers under the United 
States. But he was more cautious how he used it. 
He had a dangerous rival, from whom he apprehended 
the most serious peril to the " life of his government." 
The necessity to get rid of him was plain enough, but 20 
he could not afford to shock the moral sense of the 
world by pleading political necessity for a murder. 
He must 

" Mask the business from the common eye." 

Accordingly he sent for two enterprising gentlemen 25 
whom he took into his service upon liberal pay — 
" made love to their assistance " — and got them to 
deal with the accused party. He acted as his own 
Judge-Advocate. He made a most elegant and stir- 
ring speech to persuade his agents that Banquo was 30 
their oppressor, and had " held them so under for- 
tune " that he ought to die for that alone. When 



176 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

they agreed that he was their enemy, then said the 
king: 

" So is he mine, and though I could 

With barefaced power sweep him from my sight 
5 And bid my will avouch it ; yet I must not, 

For certain friends, who are both his and mine, 
Whose loves I may not drop." 

For these, and " many weighty reasons " besides, he 
thought it best to commit the execution of his design 

10 to a subordinate agency. The commission thus 
organized in Banquo's case sat upon him that very 
night, at a convenient place beside the road where it 
was known he would be traveling; and they did pre- 
cisely what the Attorney-General says the military 

15 officers may do in this country — they took and killed 
him, because their employer at the head of the govern- 
ment wanted it done, and paid them for doing it out 
of the public treasury. 

But of all the persons that ever wielded this kind of 

20 power, the one who went most directly to the purpose 
and object of it was Lola Montez. She reduced it to 
the elementary principle. In 1848, when she was 
minister and mistress to the King of Bavaria, she dic- 
tated all the measures of the Government. The times 

25 were troublesome. All over Germany the spirit of 
rebellion was rising; everywhere the people wanted to 
see a first-class revolution, like that which had just 
exploded in France. Many persons in Bavaria dis- 
liked to be governed so absolutely by a lady of the 

30 character which Lola Montez bore, and some of them 
were rash enough to say so. Of course that was trea- 
son, and she went about to punish it in the simplest of 
all possible ways. She bought herself a pack of Eng- 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 177 

lish bulldogs, trained to tear the flesh, and mangle the 
limbs, and lap the life-blood: and with these dogs at 
her heels, she marched up and down the streets of 
Munich with a most majestic tread, and with a sense 
of power which any Judge-Advocate in America might 5 
envy. When she saw any person whom she chose to 
denounce for " thwarting the government," or " using 
disloyal language," her obedient followers needed but 
a sign to make them spring at the throat of their vic- 
tim. It gives me unspeakable pleasure to tell you the 10 
sequel. The people rose in their strength, smashed 
down the whole machinery of oppression, and drove 
out into uttermost shame king, strumpet, dogs, and 
all. From that time to this neither man, woman, nor 
beast, has dared to worry or kill the people of Bavaria. 15 

All these are but so many different ways of using 
the arbitrary power to punish. The variety is merely 
in the means which a tyrannical government takes to 
destroy those whom it is bound to protect. Every- 
where it is but another construction, on the same 20 
principle, of that remorseless machine by which des- 
potism wreaks its vengeance on those who offend it. 
In a civilized country it nearly always uses the mili- 
tary force, because that is the sharpest, and surest, as 
well as the best-looking instrument that can be found 25 
for such a purpose. But in none of its forms can it 
be introduced into this country; we have no room for 
it; the ground here is all preoccupied by legal and free 
institutions. 

Between the officers who have a power like this, and 30 
the people who are liable to become its victims, there 
can be no relation except that of master and slave. The 
master may be kind, and the slave may be contented 



178 JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

in his bondage; but the man who can take your life, 
or restrain your liberty, or despoil you of your prop- 
erty at his discretion, either with his own hands or by 
means of a hired overseer, owns you and he can force 
5 you to serve him. All you are and all you have, in- 
cluding your wives and children, are his property. 

If my learned and very good friend, the Attorney- 
General, had this right of domination over me, I 
should not be very much frightened, for I should ex- 

10 pect him to use it as moderately as any man in all the 
world; but still I should feel the necessity of being very 
discreet. He might change in a short time. The 
thirst for blood is an appetite which grows by what it 
feeds upon. We cannot know him by present ap- 

J 5 pearances. Robespierre resigned a country judgeship 
in early life because he was too tender-hearted to pro- 
nounce sentence of death upon a convicted criminal. 
Caligula passed for a most amiable young gentleman 
before he was clothed with the imperial purple, and 

20 for about eight months afterward. It was Trajan, I 
think, who said that absolute power would convert any 
man into a wild beast, whatever was the original be- 
nevolence of his nature. If you decide that the 
Attorney-General holds in his own hands, or shares 

25 with others, the power of life and death over us all, 
I mean to be very cautious in my intercourse with him ; 
and I warn you, the judges whom I am now address- 
ing, to do likewise. Trust not to the gentleness and 
kindness which have always marked his behavior here- 

30 tofore. Keep your distance ; be careful how you 
approach him; for you know not at what moment or 
by what a trifle you may rouse the sleeping tiger. Re- 
member the injunction of Scripture: " Go not near to 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 179 

the man who hath power to kill ; and if thou come unto 
him, see that thou make no fault, lest he take away thy 
life presently; for thou goest among snares and walk- 
est upon the battlements of the city." 

The right of the Executive Government to kill and 5 
imprison citizens for political offenses has not been 
practically claimed in this country, except in cases 
where commissioned officers of the army were the in- 
struments used. Why should it be confined to them? 
Why should not naval officers be permitted to share 10 
in it? W T hat is the reason that common soldiers and 
seamen are excluded from all participation in the busi- 
ness? No law has bestowed the right upon army 
officers more than upon other persons. If men are to 
be hung up without that legal trial which the Consti- 15 
tution guarantees to them, why not employ commis- 
sions of clergymen, merchants, manufacturers, horse- 
dealers, butchers, or drovers, to do it? It will not be 
pretended that military men are better qualified to 
decide questions of fact or law than other classes of 20 
people; for it is known, on the contrary, that they are, 
as a general rule, least of all fitted to perform the duties 
that belong to a judge. 

The Attorney-General thinks that a proceeding 
which takes away the lives of citizens without a con- 25 
stitutional trial is a most merciful dispensation. His 
idea of humanity as well as law is embodied in the 
bureau of military justice, with all its dark and bloody 
machinery. For that strange opinion he gives this 
curious reason: that the duty of the commander-in- 30 
chief is to kill, and unless he has this bureau and these 
commissions he must "butcher" indiscriminately, with- 
out mercy or justice. I admit that if the commander- 



I So JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

in-chief or any other officer of the Government has 
the power of an Asiatic king, to butcher the people at 
pleasure, he ought to have somebody to aid him in 
selecting his victims, as well as to do the rough work 
5 of strangling and shooting. But if my learned friend 
will only condescend to cast an eye upon the Consti- 
tution, he will see at once that all the executive and 
military officers are completely relieved by the pro- 
vision that the life of a citizen shall not be taken at 

10 all until after legal conviction by a court and jury. 
You cannot help but see that military commissions, 
if suffered to go on, will be used for most pernicious 
purposes. I have criticised none of their past pro- 
ceedings, nor made any allusion to their history in the 

15 last five years. But what can be the meaning of this 
effort to maintain them among us? Certainly not to 
punish actual guilt. All the ends of true justice are at- 
tained by the prompt, speedy, impartial trial which the 
courts are bound to give. Is there any danger that 

20 crime will be winked upon by the judges? Does any- 
body pretend that courts and juries have less ability to 
decide upon facts and law than the men who sit in 
military tribunals? The counsel in this cause will not 
insult you by even hinting such an opinion. What 

25 righteous or just purpose, then, can they serve? 
None, whatever. 

But while they are utterly powerless to do even a 
shadow of good, they will be omnipotent to trample 
upon innocence, to gag the truth, to silence patriotism, 

30 and crush the liberties of the country. They will al- 
ways be organized to convict, and the conviction will 
follow the accusation as surely as night follows the day. 
The Government, of course, will accuse none before 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 181 

such a commission except those whom it predeter- 
mines to ruin and destroy. The accuser can choose 
the judges, and will certainly select those who are 
known to be the most ignorant, the most unprincipled, 
and the most ready to do whatever may please the 5 
power which gives them pay, promotion, and plun- 
der. The willing witness can be found as easily as 
the superserviceable judge. The treacherous spy, and 
the base informer — those loathsome wretches who do 
their lying by the job — will stock such a market with jo 
abundant perjury, for the authorities that employ 
them will be bound to protect as well as reward them. 
A corrupt and tyrannical government, with such an 
engine at its command, will shock the world with the 
enormity of its crimes. Plied as it may be by the arts 15 
of a malignant priesthood, and urged on by the mad- 
ness of a raving crowd, it will be worse than the popish 
plot, or the French revolution— it will be a combi- 
nation of both, with Fouquier-Tinville on the bench, 
and Titus Oates in the witness' box. You can save us 20 
from this horrible fate. You alone can " deliver us 
from the body of this death." To that fearful extent 
is the destiny of this nation in your hands. 



DEMONSTRATIVE ORATORY. 

THE EULOGY. 

WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

Born i8u. Died 1884. 
DANIEL O'CONNELL. 

[Prefacing this oration, in the second volume of Mr. Phillips 
Speeches, Lectures, and Addresses, is the following explanatory note : 
" On the one hundredth anniversary of the birth of Daniel O'Connell, 
August 6, 1875, a celebration was held in Music Hall, Boston. Mr. 
Phillips was the orator of the occasion. No subject could have been 
more congenial, for no statesman of his own day had more deeply 
impressed Mr. Phillips than O'Connell, and the name of the Irish 
agitator was often on the American agitator's lips. The oration was 
often repeated and takes rank with the orator's masterpieces." 

The oration is here printed from the volume mentioned above, 
with the permission of the publishers, Messrs. Lee and Shepard.] 

A hundred years ago to-day Daniel O'Connell was 
born. The Irish race, wherever scattered over the 
globe, assembles to-night to pay fitting tribute to his 
memory — one of the most eloquent men, one of the 
5 most devoted patriots, and the most successful states- 
man which that race has given to history. We of 
other races may well join you in that tribute, since the 
cause of constitutional government owes more to 
O'Connell than to any other political leader of the last 
10 two centuries. The English-speaking race, to find his 
equal among statesmen, must pass by Chatham and 



DANIEL a CON NELL. 183 

Walpole, and go back to Oliver Cromwell, or the 
able men who held up the throne of Queen Elizabeth. 
If to put the civil and social elements of your day into 
successful action, and plant the seeds of continued 
strength and progress for coming times — if this is to 5 
be a statesman, then most emphatically was O'Connell 
one. To exert this control, and secure this progress, 
while and because ample means lie ready for use under 
your hand, does not rob Walpole and Colbert, Chat- 
ham and Richelieu, of their title to be considered 10 
statesmen. To do it, as Martin Luther did, when one 
must ingeniously discover or invent his tools, and 
while the mightiest forces that influence human 
affairs are arrayed against him, that is what ranks 
O'Connell with the few masterly statesmen the Eng- 15 
lish-speaking race has ever had. When Napoleon's 
soldiers bore the negro chief Toussaint L'Ouverture 
into exile, he said, pointing back to San Domingo, 
" You think you have rooted up the tree of liberty, 
but I am only a branch. I have planted the tree itself 20 
so deep that ages will never root it up." And what- 
ever may be said of the social or industrial condition 
of Hayti during the last seventy years, its nationality 
has never been successfully assailed. 

O'Connell is the only Irishman who can say as 25 
much of Ireland. From the peace of Utrecht, 1713, 
till the fall of Napoleon, Great Britain was the lead- 
ing state in Europe; while Ireland, a comparatively 
insignificant island, lay at its feet. She weighed next 
to nothing in the scale of British politics. The Con- 30 
tinent pitied and England despised her. O'Connell 
found her a mass of quarreling races and sects, di- 
vided, dispirited, broken-hearted, and servile. He 



1 84 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

made her a nation whose first word broke in pieces the 
iron obstinacy of Wellington, tossed Peel from the 
Cabinet, and gave the government to the Whigs; 
whose colossal figure, like the helmet in Walpole's 

5 romance, has filled the political sky ever since; whose 
generous aid thrown into the scale of the three great 
British reforms, — the ballot, the corn-laws, and sla- 
very, — secured their success; a nation whose contin- 
ual discontent has dragged Great Britain down to be 

10 a second-rate power on the chess-board of Europe. I 
know other causes have helped in producing this re- 
sult, but the nationality which O'Connell created has 
been the main cause of this change in England's im- 
portance. Dean Swift, Molyneux, and Henry Flood 

15 thrust Ireland for a moment into the arena of British 
politics, a sturdy suppliant clamoring for justice; and 
Grattan held her there an equal, and, as he thought, 
a nation, for a few years. But the unscrupulous hand 
of William Pitt brushed away in an hour all Grattan's 

20 works. Well might he say of the Irish Parliament 
which he brought to life, " I sat by its cradle, I fol- 
lowed its hearse"; since after that infamous union, 
which Byron called a " union of the shark with its 
prey," Ireland sank back, plundered and helpless. 

25 O'Connell lifted her to a fixed and permanent place 
in English affairs — no suppliant, but a conqueror dic- 
tating her terms. 

This is the proper standpoint from which to look 
at O'Connell's work. This is the consideration that 

30 ranks him, not with founders of states, like Alexander, 
Caesar, Bismarck, Napoleon, and William the Silent, 
but with men who, without arms, by force of reason, 
have revolutionized their times — with Luther, Jeffer- 



DANIEL & CON NELL. 185 

son, Mazzini, Samuel Adams, Garrison, and Franklin. 
I know some men will sneer at this claim — those who 
have never looked at him except through the spectacles 
of English critics, who despised him as an Irishman 
and a Catholic, until they came to hate him as a con- 5 
queror. As Grattan said of Kirwan, " The curse of 
Swift was upon him, to have been born an Irishman 
and a man of genius, and to have used his gifts for his 
country's good." Mark what measure of success at- 
tended the able men who preceded him, in circum- 10 
stances as favorable as his, perhaps even better; then 
measure him by comparison. 

An island soaked with the blood of countless re- 
bellions; oppression such as would turn cowards into 
heroes; a race whose disciplined valor had been proved 15 
on almost every battlefield in Europe, and whose 
reckless daring lifted it, any time, in arms against 
England, with hope or without — what inspired them? 
Devotion, eloquence, and patriotism seldom paralleled 
in history. Who led them? Dean Swift, according 20 
to Addison, " the greatest genius of his age," called 
by Pope " the incomparable," a man fertile in re- 
sources, of stubborn courage and tireless energy, 
master of an English style unequaled, perhaps, for its 
purpose then or since, a man who had twice faced 25 
England in her angriest mood, and by that masterly 
pen subdued her to his will; Henry Flood, eloquent 
even for an Irishman, and sagacious as he was elo- 
quent — the eclipse of that brilliant life one of the sad- 
dest pictures in Irish biography ; Grattan, with all the 30 
courage, and more than the eloquence, of his race, a 
statesman's eye quick to see every advantage, bound- 
less devotion, unspotted integrity, recognized as an 



1 86 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

equal by the world's leaders, and welcomed by Fox 
to the House of Commons as the " Demosthenes of 
Ireland "; Emmet in the field, Sheridan in the senate, 
Curran at the bar; and, above all, Edmund Burke, 
5 whose name makes eulogy superfluous, more than 
Cicero in the senate, almost Plato in the academy. 
All these gave their lives to Ireland; and when the 
present century opened, where was she? Sold like a 
slave in the market place by her perjured master, 

10 William Pitt. 

It was then that O'Connell flung himself into the 
struggle, gave fifty years to the service of his country; 
and where is she to-day? Not only redeemed, but her 
independence put beyond doubt or peril. Grattan and 

15 his predecessors could get no guaranties for what 
rights they gained. In that sagacious, watchful, and 
almost omnipotent public opinion, which O'Connell 
created, is an all-sufficient guaranty of Ireland's future. 
Look at her! almost every shackle has fallen from her 

20 limbs ; all that human wisdom has as yet devised to 
remedy the evils of bigotry and misrule has been done. 
O'Connell found Ireland a " hissing and a byword " 
in Edinburgh and London. He made her the pivot of 
British politics; she rules them, directly or indirectly, 

25 with as absolute a sway as the slave question did the 
United States from 1850 to 1865. Look into Earl 
Russell's book, and the history of the Reform Bill of 
1832, and see with how much truth it may be claimed 
that O'Connell and his fellows gave Englishmen the 

30 ballot under that act. It is by no means certain that 
the corn-laws could have been abolished without their 
aid. In the Anti-slavery struggle O'Connell stands, 
in influence and ability, equal with the best. I know 



DANIEL &CONNELL. 187 

the credit all those measures do to English leaders; 
but, in my opinion, the next generation will test the 
statesmanship of Peel, Palmerston, Russell, and Glad- 
stone, almost entirely by their conduct of the Irish 
question. All the laurels they have hitherto won in that 5 
field are rooted in ideas which Grattan and O'Con- 
nell urged on reluctant hearers for half a century. 
Why do Bismarck and Alexander look with such con- 
temptuous indifference on every attempt of England 
to mingle in European affairs? Because they know 10 
they have but to lift a finger, and Ireland stabs her in 
the back. Where was the statesmanship of English 
leaders when they allowed such an evil to grow so for- 
midable? This is Ireland to-day. What was she 
when O'Connell undertook her cause? The saddest 15 
of Irish poets has described her: 



" O Ireland, my country, the hour of thy pride and thy splendor hath 
passed, 

And the chain that was spurned in thy moments of power hangs heavy 
around thee at last ! 

There are marks in the fate of each clime, there are turns in the for- 
tunes of men ; 

But the changes of realms or the chances of time shall never restore 
thee again. 20 



' ' Thou art chained to the wheel of the foe by links which a world can- 
not sever : 

With thy tyrant through storm and through calm thou shalt go, and 
thy sentence is bondage forever. 

Thou art doomed for the thankless to toil, thou art left for the proud 
to disdain : 

And the blood of thy sons and the wealth of thy soil shall be lavished 
and lavished in vain. 



1 38 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

" Thy riches with taunts shall be taken, thy valor with coldness be 

paid ; 
And of millions who see thee thus sunk and forsaken not one shall 

stand forth in thine aid. 
In the nations thy place is left void ; thou art lost in the list of the 

free ; 
Even realms by the plague and the earthquake destroyed may revive, 

but no hope is for thee." 

5 It was at this moment, when the cloud came down 
close to earth, that O'Connell, then a young lawyer 
just admitted to the bar, flung himself in front 
of his countrymen, and begged them to make 
one grand effort. The hierarchy of the Church 

10 disowned him. They said, " We have seen every 
attempt lead always up to the scaffold; we are 
not willing to risk another effort." The peerage 
of the island repudiated him. They said, " We 
have struggled and bled for a half dozen cen- 

isturies; it is better to sit down content." Alone, a 
young man, without office, without wealth, without 
renown, he flung himself in front of the people, and 
asked for a new effort. What was the power left him? 
Simply the people — poverty-stricken, broken-hearted 

20 peasants standing on a soil soaked with the blood of 
their ancestors, cowering under a code of which 
Brougham said that " they could not lift their hands 
without breaking it." It was a community impover- 
ished by five centuries of oppression — four millions of 

25 Catholics robbed of every acre of their native land; it 
was an island torn by race-hatred and religious bigo- 
try, her priests indifferent, and her nobles hopeless or 
traitors. The wiliest of her enemies, a Protestant 
Irishman, ruled the British senate; the sternest of her 

30 tyrants, a Protestant Irishman, led the armies of 



DANIEL 0" CON NELL. i«9 

Europe. Puritan hate, which had grown blinder and 
more bitter since the days of Cromwell, gave them 
weapons. Ireland herself lay bound in the iron links 
of a code which Montesquieu said could have been 
" made only by devils, and should be registered only in 5 
hell." Her millions were beyond the reach of the 
great reform engine of modern times, since they could 
neither read nor write. 

Well, in order to lead Ireland in that day an Irish- 
man must have four elements, and he must have them 10 
also to a large extent to-day. The first is, he must be 
what an Irishman calls a gentleman, every inch of him, 
from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot — 
that is, he must trace his lineage back to the legends 
of Ireland. Well, O'Connell could do that; he be- 15 
longed to one of the perhaps seven royal families of 
the old history. Secondly, he must have proved his 
physical courage in the field or by the duel. Well, 
O'Connell knew this; his enemies knew it. Bred at 
St. Omer, with a large leaning to be a priest, he had 20 
the most emphatic scruples against the duel, and so 
announced himself; so that when he had got his head 
above the mass and began to be seen, a Major 
d'Esterre, agent of the Dublin Corporation, visited 
him with continuous insult. Every word that had in- 25 
suit in it was poured upon his head through the 
journals. O'Connell saw the dread alternative — he 
must either give satisfaction to the gentleman or leave 
the field; and at last he consented to a challenge. He 
passed the interval between the challenge and the day 30 
of meeting in efforts to avoid it, which were all at- 
tributed to cowardice. When at last he stood oppo- 
site his antagonist, he said to his second, " God forbid 



• 190 WENDELL PHLLLLPS. 

that I should risk a life; mark me, I shall fire below 
the knee." But you know in early practice with the 
pistol you always fire above the mark; and O'Con- 
nell's pistol took effect above the knee, and D'Esterre 
5 fell mortally wounded. O'Connell recorded in the 
face of Europe a vow against further dueling. He 
settled a pension on the widow of his antagonist; and 
a dozen years later, when he held ten thousand dol- 
lars' worth of briefs in the northern courts, he flung 

10 them away, and went to the extreme south to save for 
her the last acre she owned. After this his sons 
fought his duels; and when Disraeli, anxious to prove 
himself a courageous man, challenged O'Connell, he 
put the challenge in his pocket. Disraeli, to get the 

15 full advantage of the matter, sent his letter to the 
London Times; whereupon Maurice O'Connell sent 
the Jew a message that there was an O'Connell who 
would fight the duel if he wanted it, but his name 
was not Daniel. Disraeli did not continue the corre- 

20 spondence. 

Thirdly, an Irish leader must not only be a lawyer 
of great acuteness, but he must have a great reputa- 
tion for being such. He had to lift three millions of 
people, and fling them against a government that 

25 held in its hand a code which made it illegal for any 
one of them to move; and they never had moved prior 
to this that it did not end at the scaffold. For twenty 
long years O'Connell lifted these three millions of 
men, and flung them against the British government 

30 at every critical moment, and no sheriff ever put his 
hand on one of his followers; and when late in life the 
Queen's Bench of Judges, sitting in Dublin, sent him 
to jail, he stood almost alone in his interpretation of 



DANIEL a CONN ELL. 19 l 

the statutes against the legal talent of the island. He 
appealed to the House of Lords, and the judges of 
England confirmed his construction of the law and 
set him free. Fourthly, an Irish leader must be an 
orator; he must have the magic that molds millions of 5 
souls into one. Of this I shall have more to say in a 
moment. 

In this mass of Irish ignorance, weakness, and quar- 
rel, one keen eye saw hidden the elements of union 
and strength. With rarest skill he called them forth, 10 
and marshaled them into rank. Then this one man, 
without birth, wealth, or office, in a land ruled by birth, 
wealth, and office, molded from those unsuspected ele- 
ments a power which, overawing king, senate, and 
people, wrote his single will on the statute-book of the 15 
most obstinate nation in Europe. Safely to emanci- 
pate the Irish Catholics, and, in spite of Saxon-Prot- 
estant hate, to lift all Ireland to the level of British 
citizenship — this was the problem which statesman- 
ship and patriotism had been seeking for two centu- 20 
ries to solve. For this, blood had been poured out like 
water. On this, the genius of Swift, the learning of 
Molyneux, and the eloquence of Bushe, Grattan, and 
Burke had been wasted. English leaders ever since 
Fox had studied this problem anxiously. They saw 25 
that the safety of the empire was compromised. At 
one or two critical moments in the reign of George 
III., one signal from an Irish leader would have 
snapped the chain that bound Ireland to his throne. 
His ministers recognized it; and they tried every ex- 30 
pedient, exhausted every device, dared every peril, 
kept oaths or broke them, in order to succeed. All 
failed; and not only failed, but acknowledged they 



I9 2 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

could see no way in which success could ever be 
achieved. 

O'Connell achieved it. Out of this darkness, he 
called forth light. Out of this most abject, weak, and 

5 pitiable of kingdoms, he made a power; and dying, he 
left in Parliament a specter which, unless appeased, 
pushes Whig and Tory ministers alike from their 
stools. 

But Brougham says he was a demagogue. Fie on 

10 Wellington, Derby, Peel, Palmerston, Liverpool, Rus- 
sell, and Brougham, to be fooled and ruled by a dema- 
gogue! What must they, the subjects, be, if O'Con- 
nell, their king, be only a bigot and a demagogue? A 
demagogue rides the storm; he has never really the 

15 ability to create one. He uses it narrowly, ignorantly, 
and for selfish ends. If not crushed by the force 
which, without his will, has flung him into power, he 
leads it with ridiculous miscalculation against some 
insurmountable obstacle that scatters it forever. Dy- 

20 ing, he leaves no mark on the elements with which he 
has been mixed. Robespierre will serve for an illus- 
tration. It took O'Connell thirty years of patient and 
sagacious labor to mold elements whose existence no 
man, however wise, had ever discerned before. He 

25 used them unselfishly, only to break the yoke of his 
race. Nearly fifty years have passed since his tri- 
umph, but his impress still stands forth clear and sharp 
on the empire's policy. Ireland is wholly indebted to 
him for her political education. Responsibility edu- 

3ocates; he lifted her to broader responsibilities. Her 
possession of power makes it the keen interest of other 
classes to see she is well informed. He associated her 
with all the reform movements of Great Britain. This 



DANIEL O'CONNELL. 193 

is the education of affairs, broader, deeper, and more 
real than what school or college can give. This and 
power, his gifts, are the lever which lifts her to every 
other right and privilege. How much England owes 
him we can never know; since how great a danger and 5 
curse Ireland would have been to the empire, had she 
continued the cancer Pitt and Castlereagh left her, is a 
chapter of history which, fortunately, can never be 
written. No demagogue ever walked through the 
streets of Dublin, as O'Connell and Grattan did more 10 
than once, hooted and mobbed because they opposed 
themselves to the mad purpose of the people, and 
crushed it by a stern resistance. No demagogue 
would have offered himself to a race like the Irish as 
the apostle of peace, pledging himself to the British 15 
government that, in the long agitation before him, 
with brave millions behind him spoiling for a fight, 
he would never draw a sword. 

I have purposely dwelt long on this view, because 
the extent and the far-reaching effects of O'Connell's 20 
work, without regard to the motives which inspired 
him, or the methods he used, have never been fully 
recognized. 

Briefly stated, he did what the ablest and bravest of 
his forerunners had tried to do and failed. He created 25 
a public opinion and unity of purpose, — no matter 
what be now the dispute about methods, — which 
made Ireland a nation; he gave her British citizenship, 
and a place in the imperial Parliament; he gave her a 
press and a public: with these tools her destiny is in 30 
her own hands. When the Abolitionists got for the 
negro schools and the vote, they settled the slave 
question; for they planted the sure seeds of 



194 WENDELL PHLLLIPS. 

civil equality. O'Connell did this for Ireland 
— this which no Irishman before had ever dreamed 
of attempting. Swift and Molyneux were able. 
Grattan, Bushe, Saurin, Burrowes, Plunket, Cur- 
5 ran, Burke, were eloquent. Throughout the island 
courage was a drug. They gained now one 
point, and now another; but, after all, they left the 
helm of Ireland's destiny in foreign and hostile hands. 
O'Connell was brave, sagacious, eloquent; but, more 

10 than all, he was a statesman, for he gave to Ireland's 
own keeping the key of her future. As Lord Bacon 
marches down the centuries, he may lay one hand on 
the telegraph and the other on the steam-engine, and 
say, " These are mine, for I taught you how to study 

15 Nature." In a similar sense, as shackle after shackle 
falls from Irish limbs, O'Connell may say, " This vic- 
tory is mine; for I taught you the method, and I gave 
you the arms." 

I have hitherto been speaking of his ability and suc- 

20 cess; by and by we will look at his character, motives, 
and methods. This unique ability even his enemies 
have been forced to confess. Harriet Martineau, in 
her incomparable history of the " Thirty Years' 
Peace," has, with Tory hate, misconstrued every action 

25 of O'Connell, and invented a bad motive for each one. 
But even she confesses that " he rose in power, influ- 
ence, and notoriety to an eminence such as no other 
individual citizen has attained in modern times " in 
Great Britain. And one of his by no means partial 

30 biographers has well said : 

" Any man who turns over the magazines and news- 
papers of that period will easily perceive how grandly 
O'Connell's figure dominated in politics, how com- 



DANIEL a CON NELL. 195 

pletely he had dispelled the indifference that had so 
long prevailed on Irish questions, how clearly his agi- 
tation stands forth as the great fact of the time. . . 
The truth is, his position, so far from being a common 
one, is absolutely unique in history. We may search 5 
in vain through the records of the past for any man, 
who without the effusion of a drop of blood, or the 
advantages of office or rank, succeeded in governing 
a people so absolutely and so long, and in creating so 
entirely the elements of his power. . . There was no 10 
rival to his supremacy, there was no restriction to his 
authority. He played with the enthusiasm he had 
aroused, with the negligent ease of a master; he gov- 
erned the complicated organization he had created, 
with a sagacity that never failed. He made himself 15 
the focus of the attention of other lands, and the center 
around which the rising intellect of his own revolved. 
He had transformed the whole social system of Ire- 
land; almost reversed the relative positions of Protes- 
tants and Catholics; remodeled by his influence the 20 
representative, ecclesiastical, and educational institu- 
tions, and created a public opinion that surpassed the 
wildest dreams of his predecessors. Can we wonder 
at the proud exultation with which he exclaimed, 
' Grattan sat by the cradle of his country, and followed 25 
her hearse; it was left for me to sound the resurrection 
trumpet, and to show that she was not dead, but 
sleeping '? " 

But the method by which he achieved his success is 
perhaps more remarkable than even the success itself. 30 
An Irish poet, one of his bitterest assailants thirty 
years ago, has laid a chaplet of atonement on his altar, 
and one verse runs: 



I9 6 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

" O great world-leader of a mighty age ! 
Praise unto thee let all the people give. 
By thy great name of Liberator live 
In golden letters upon history's page ; 
5 And this thy epitaph while time shall be, — 

He found his country chained, but left her free." 

It is natural that Ireland should remember him as 
her Liberator. But, strange as it may seem to you, 
I think Europe and America will remember him by a 

10 higher title. I said in opening, that the cause of con- 
stitutional government is more indebted to O'Connell 
than to any other political leader of the last two cen- 
turies. What I mean is, that he invented the great 
method of constitutional agitation. Agitator is a 

15 title which will last longer, which suggests a broader 
and more permanent influence, and entitles him to the 
gratitude of far more millions than the name Ireland 
loves to give him. The " first great agitator " is his 
proudest title to gratitude and fame. Agitation is the 

20 method that puts the school by the side of the ballot- 
box. The Fremont canvass was the nation's best 
school. Agitation prevents rebellion, keeps the peace, 
and secures progress. Every step she gains is gained 
forever. Muskets are the weapons of animals; agi- 

25 tation is the atmosphere of brains. The old Hindoo 
saw, in his dream, the human race led out to its 
various fortunes. First, men were in chains which 
went back to an iron hand; then he saw them led by 
threads from the brain which went upward to an un- 

30 seen hand. The first was despotism, iron and ruling 
by force. The last was civilization, ruling by ideas. 

Agitation is an old word with a new meaning. Sir 
Robert Peel, the first English leader who felt he was 



DANIEL a CON NELL. 197 

its tool, defined it to be " the marshaling of the con- 
science of a nation to mold its laws." O'Connell 
was the first to show and use its power, to lay down 
its principles, to analyze its elements, and mark out 
its metes and bounds. It is voluntary, public, and 5 
above-board, — no oath-bound secret societies like 
those of old time in Ireland, and of the Continent 
to-day. Its means are reason and argument — no ap- 
peal to arms. Wait patiently for the slow growth of 
public opinion. I0 

The Frenchman is angry with his government; he 
throws up barricades, and shots his guns to the lips. 
A week's fury drags the nation ahead a hand-breadth ; 
reaction lets it settle halfway back again. As Lord 
Chesterfield said, a hundred years ago, " You French- 15 
men erect barricades, but never any barriers." An 
Englishman is dissatisfied with public affairs. He 
brings his charges, offers his proofs, waits for preju- 
dice to relax, for public opinion to inform itself. 
Then every step taken is taken forever; an abuse once 20 
removed never reappears in history. Where did 
he learn this method? Practically speaking, from 
O'Connell. It was he who planted its corner stone — 
argument, no violence ; no political change is worth a 
drop of human blood. His other motto was, " Tell 25 
the whole truth " ; no concealing half of one's convic- 
tions to make the other half more acceptable; no de- 
nial of one truth to gain hearing for another; no com- 
promise; or, as he phrased it, " Nothing is politically 
right which is morally wrong." 30 

Above all, plant yourself on the millions. The sym- 
pathy of every human being, no matter how ignorant 
or how humble, adds weight to public opinion. At 



198 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

the outset of his career the clergy turned a deaf ear 
to his appeal. They had seen their flocks led up to 
useless slaughter for centuries, and counseled sub- 
mission. The nobility repudiated him; they were 
5 either traitors or hopeless. Protestants had touched 
their Ultima Thule with Grattan, and seemed settling 
down in despair. English Catholics advised waiting 
till the tyrant grew merciful. O'Connell, left alone, 
said, " I will forge these four millions of Irish hearts 

10 into a thunderbolt which shall suffice to dash this des- 
potism to pieces." And he did it. Living under an 
aristocratic government, himself of the higher class, 
he anticipated Lincoln's wisdom, and framed his 
movements " for the people, of the people, and by the 

15 people." 

It is a singular fact that the freer a nation becomes, 
the more utterly democratic the form of its institu- 
tions, this outside agitation, this pressure of public 
opinion to direct political action, becomes more and 

20 more necessary. The general judgment is that the 
freest possible government produces the freest pos- 
sible men and women — the most individual, the least 
servile to the judgment of others. But a moment's 
reflection will show any man that this is an unreason- 

25 able expectation, and that, on the contrary, entire 
equality and freedom in political forms almost inevi- 
tably tend to make the individual subside into the mass, 
and lose his identity in the general whole. Suppose 
we stood in England to-night. There is the nobility, 

30 and here is the Church. There is the trading class, 
and here is the literary. A broad gulf separates the 
four; and provided a member of either can conciliate 
his own section, he can afford, in a very large meas- 



DANIEL a CON NELL. 199 

ure, to despise the judgment of the other three. He 
has, to some extent, a refuge and a breakwater 
against the tyranny of what we call public opinion. 
But in a country like ours, of absolute democratic 
equality, public opinion is not only omnipotent, it is 5 
omnipresent. There is no refuge from its tyranny; 
there is no hiding from its reach; and the result is 
that, if you take the old Greek lantern, and go about 
to seek among a hundred, you will find not one single 
American who really has not, or who does not fancy 10 
at least that he has something to gain or lose in his 
ambition, his social life, or his business, from the good 
opinion and the votes of those about him. And the 
consequence is, that, — instead of being a mass of indi- 
viduals, each one fearlessly blurting out his own con- 15 
victions, — as a nation, compared with other nations, 
we are. a mass of cowards. More than any other 
people, we are afraid of each other. 

If you were a caucus to-night, Democratic or Re- 
publican, and I were your orator, none of you could 20 
get beyond the necessary and timid limitations of 
party. You not only would not demand, you would 
not allow me to utter, one word of what you really 
thought, and what I thought. You would demand of 
me — and my value as a caucus speaker would depend 25 
entirely on the adroitness and the vigilance with 
which I met the demand — that I should not utter 
one single word which would compromise the 
vote of next week. That is politics; so with 
the press. Seemingly independent, and some- 30 
times really so, the press can afford only to 
mount the cresting wave, not go beyond it. The 
editor might as well shoot his reader with a bullet 



200 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

as with a new idea. He must hit the exact line of the 
opinion of the day. I am not finding fault with him; 
I am only describing him. Some three years ago I 
took to one of the freest of the Boston journals a 
5 letter, and by appropriate consideration induced its 
editor to print it. And as we glanced along its con- 
tents, and came to the concluding statement, he said, 
"Couldn't you omit that?" I* said, "No; I wrote it 
for that; it is the gist of the statement." " Well," said 

10 he, "it is true; there is not a boy in the streets that 
does not know it is true; but I wish you could 
omit it." 

I insisted; and the next morning, fairly and justly, 
he printed the whole. Side by side he put an article 

15 of his own, in which he said, " We copy in the next 
column an article from Mr. Phillips, and we only re- 
gret the absurd and unfounded statement with which 
he concludes it." He had kept his promise by print- 
ing the article; he saved his reputation by printing the 

20 comment. And that, again, is the inevitable, the 
essential limitation of the press in a republican com- 
munity. Our institutions, floating unanchored on 
the shifting surface of popular opinion, cannot afford 
to hold back, or to draw forward, a hated question, 

25 and compel a reluctant public to look at it and to con- 
sider it. Hence, as you see at once, the moment a 
large issue, twenty years ahead of its age, presents 
itself to the consideration of an empire or of a republic, 
just in proportion to the freedom of its institutions is 

30 the necessity of a platform outside of the press, of poli- 
tics, and of its Church, whereon stand men with no 
candidate to elect, with no plan to carry, with no repu- 
tation to stake, with no object but the truth, no pur- 



DANIEL O'CONNELL. 201 

pose but to tear the question open and let the light 
through it. So much in explanation of a word in- 
finitely hated, — agitation and agitators, — but an ele- 
ment which the progress of modern government has 
developed more and more every day. 5 

The great invention we trace in its twilight and 
seed to the days of the Long Parliament. Defoe and 
L'Estrange, later down, were the first prominent Eng- 
lishmen to fling pamphlets at the House of Commons. 
Swift ruled England by pamphlets. Wilberforce sum- 10 
moned the Church, and sought the alliance of influen- 
tial classes. But O'Connell first showed a profound 
faith in the human tongue. He descried afar off the 
coming omnipotence of the press. He called the 
millions to his side, appreciated the infinite weight of 15 
the simple human heart and conscience, and grafted 
democracy into the British empire. The later Aboli- 
tionists — Buxton, Sturge, and Thompson — borrowed 
his method. Cobden flung it in the face of the almost 
omnipotent landholders of England, and broke the 20 
Tory party forever. They only haunt upper air now 
in the stolen garments of the Whigs. The English 
administration recognizes this new partner in the 
government, and waits to be moved on. Garrison 
brought the new weapon to our shores. The only 25 
wholly useful and thoroughly defensible war Chris- 
tendom has seen in this century, the greatest civil and 
social change the English race ever saw, are the result. 

This great servant and weapon, peace and consti- 
tutional government owe to O'Connell. Who has 30 
given progress a greater boon? What single agent 
has done as much to bless and improve the world for 
the last fifty years ? 



202 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

O'Connell has been charged with coarse, violent, 
and intemperate language. The criticism is of little 
importance. Stupor and palsy never understand life. 
White-livered indifference is always disgusted and an- 
5 noyed by earnest conviction. Protestants criticised 
Luther in the same way. It took three centuries to 
carry us far off enough to appreciate his colossal pro- 
portions. It is a hundred years to-day since O'Con- 
nell was born. It will take another hundred to put 

10 us at such an angle as will enable us correctly to meas- 
ure his stature. Premising that it would be folly to 
find fault with a man struggling for life because his 
attitudes were ungraceful, remembering the Scythian 
King's answer to Alexander, criticising his strange 

15 weapon, — " If you knew how precious freedom was, 
you would defend it even with axes," — we must see 
that O'Connell's own explanation is evidently sincere 
and true. He found the Irish heart so cowed, and 
Englishmen so arrogant, that he saw it needed an in- 

20 dependence verging on insolence, a defiance that 
touched extremest limits, to breathe self-respect into 
his own race, teach the aggressor manners, and sober 
him into respectful attention. 

It was the same with us Abolitionists. Webster 

25 had taught the North the bated breath and crouching 
of a slave. It needed with us an attitude of inde- 
pendence that was almost insolent, it needed that we 
should exhaust even the Saxon vocabulary of scorn, 
to fitly utter the righteous and haughty contempt that 

30 honest men had for man-stealers. Only in that way 
could we wake the North to self-respect, or teach the 
South that at length she had met her equal, if not her 
master. On a broad canvas, meant for the public 



DANIEL a CON NELL. 203 

square, the tiny lines of a Dutch interior would be in- 
visible. In no other circumstances was the French 
maxim, " You can never make a revolution with rose- 
water," more profoundly true. The world has hardly 
yet learned how deep a philosophy lies hid in Hamlet's 5 

" Nay, an thou'lt mouth, 
I'll rant as well as thou." 

O'Connell has been charged with insincerity in urg- 
ing repeal, and those who defended his sincerity have 
leaned toward allowing that it proved his lack of com- 10 
mon sense. I think both critics mistaken. His ear- 
liest speeches point to repeal as his ultimate object; 
indeed, he valued emancipation largely as a means to 
that end. No fair view of his whole life will leave the 
slightest ground to doubt his sincerity. As for the 15 
reasonableness and necessity of the measure, I think 
every year proves them. Considering O'Connell's 
position, I wholly sympathize in his profound and un- 
shaken loyalty to the empire. Its share in the British 
empire makes Ireland's strength and importance. 20 
Standing alone among the vast and massive sov- 
ereignties of Europe, she would be weak, insignifi- 
cant, and helpless. Were I an Irishman I should 
cling to the empire. 

Fifty or sixty years hence, when scorn of race has 25 
vanished, and bigotry is lessened, it may be possible 
for Ireland to be safe and free while holding the 
position to England that Scotland does. But during 
this generation and the next, O'Connell was wise in 
claiming that Ireland's rights would never be safe 30 
without " home rule." A substantial repeal of the 
union should be every Irishman's earnest aim. Were 



204 WENDELL PHLLLIPS. 

I their adviser, I should constantly repeat what Grat- 
tan said in 1810, " The best advice, gentlemen, I can 
give on all occasions is, ' Keep knocking at the 
union.' " 
5 We imagine an Irishman to be only a zealot on 
fire. We fancy Irish spirit and eloquence to be only 
blind, reckless, headlong enthusiasm. But, in truth, 
Grattan was the soberest leader of his day, holding 
scrupulously back the disorderly elements, which 

10 fretted under his curb. There was one hour, at least, 
when a word from him would have lighted a demo- 
cratic revolt throughout the empire. And the most 
remarkable of O'Connell's gifts was neither his elo- 
quence nor his sagacity: it was his patience — 

15 " patience, all the passion of great souls "; the tireless 
patience which, from 1800 to 1820, went from town to 
town, little aided by the press, to plant the seeds of an 
intelligent and united, as well as hot patriotism. 
Then, after many years and long toil, waiting for 

20 rivals to be just, for prejudice to wear out, and for 
narrowness to grow wise, using British folly and op- 
pression as his wand, he molded the enthusiasm of 
the most excitable of races, the just and inevitable in- 
dignation of four millions of Catholics, the hate of 

25 plundered poverty, priest, noble, and peasant, into one 
fierce though harmonious mass. He held it in care- 
ful check, with sober moderation, watching every 
opportunity, attracting ally after ally, never forfeiting 
any possible friendship, allowing no provocation to 

30 stir him to anything that would not help his cause, 
compelling each hottest and most ignorant of his fol- 
lowers to remember that " he who commits a crime 
helps the enemy." At last, when the hour struck, this 



DANIEL 0' CONN ELL. 205 

power was made to achieve justice for itself, and put 
him in London, — him, this despised Irishman, this 
hated Catholic, this mere demagogue and man of 
words, him, — to hold the Tory party in one hand, and 
the Whig party in the other; all this without shedding 5 
a drop of blood, or disturbing for a moment the peace 
of the empire. 

While O'Connell held Ireland in his hand, her peo- 
ple were more orderly, law-abiding, and peaceful than 
for a century before, or during any year since. The 10 
strength of this marvelous control passes comprehen- 
sion. Out West I met an Irishman whose father held 
him up to see O'Connell address the two hundred 
thousand men at Tara — literally to see, not to hear 
him. I said, " But you could not all hear even his 15 
voice." " Oh, no, sir! Only about thirty thousand 
could hear him; but we all kept as still and silent as if 
we did." With magnanimous frankness O'Connell 
once said, " I never could have held those monster 
meetings without a crime, without disorder, tumult, 20 
or quarrel, except for Father Mathew's aid." Any 
man can build a furnace, and turn water into steam 
— yes, if careless, make it rend his dwelling in pieces. 
Genius builds the locomotive, harnesses this terrible 
power in iron traces, holds it with master hand in use- 25 
ful limits, and gives it to the peaceable service of man. 
The Irish people were O'Connell's locomotive; saga- 
cious patience and moderation the genius that built 
it; Parliament and justice the station he reached. 

Everyone who has studied O'Connell's life sees his 30 
marked likeness to Luther — the unity of both their 
lives; their wit; the same massive strength, even if 
coarse-grained; the ease with which each reached the 



206 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

masses, the power with which they wielded them; the 
same unrivaled eloquence, fit for any audience; the 
same instinct of genius that led them constantly to 
acts which, as Voltaire said, " Foolish men call rash, 
5 but wisdom sees to be brave"; the same broad suc- 
cess. But O'Connell had one great element which 
Luther lacked — the universality of his sympathy; the 
far-reaching sagacity which discerned truth afar off, 
just struggling above the horizon; the loyal, brave, 

10 and frank spirit which acknowledged and served it; 
the profound and rare faith which believed that " the 
whole of truth can never do harm to the whole of vir- 
tue." From the serene height of intellect and judg- 
ment to which God's gifts had lifted him, he saw 

15 clearly that no one right was ever in the way of an- 
other, that injustice harms the wrong-doer even more 
than the victim, that whoever puts a chain on another 
fastens it also on himself. Serenely confident that 
the truth is always safe, and justice always expedient, 

20 he saw that intolerance is only want of faith. He 
who stifles free discussion secretly doubts whether 
what he professes to believe is really true. Coleridge 
says, " See how triumphant in debate and notion 
O'Connell is! Why? Because he asserts a broad 

25 principle, acts up to it, rests his body on it, and has 
faith in it." 

Coworker with Father Mathew; champion of the 
Dissenters ; advocating the substantial principles of the 
Charter, though not a Chartist; foe of the corn-laws; 

30 battling against slavery, whether in India or the 
Carolinas; the great democrat who in Europe seventy 
years ago called the people to his side; starting a 
movement of the people, for the people, by the people 



Daniel a conn ell. *o? 

— show me another record as broad and brave as this 
in the European history of our century. Where is 
the English statesman, where the Irish leader, who can 
claim one? No wonder every Englishman hated and 
feared him! He wounded their prejudices at every 5 
point. Whig and Tory, timid Liberal, narrow Dis- 
senter, bitter Radical — all feared and hated this broad 
brave soul, who dared to follow Truth wherever he 
saw her, whose toleration was as broad as human 
nature, and his sympathy as boundless as the sea. 10 

To show you that he never took a leaf from our 
American gospel of compromise; that he never filed 
his tongue to silence on one truth, fancying so to help 
another; that he never sacrificed any race to save even 
Ireland — let me compare him with Kossuth, whose 15 
only merits were his eloquence and his patriotism. 
When Kossuth was in Faneuil Hall, he exclaimed, 
" Here is a flag without a stain, a nation without a 
crime! " We Abolitionists appealed to him, " O elo- 
quent son of the Magyar, come to break chains ! have 20 
you no word, no pulse-beat, for four millions of 
negroes bending under a yoke ten times heavier than 
that of Hungary? " He answered, " I would forget 
anybody, I would praise anything, to help Hungary." 

O'Connell never said anything like that. When I 25 
was in Naples, I asked Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton, 
a Tory, " Is O'Connell an honest man?" "As hon- 
est a man as ever breathed," said he, and then told me 
this story: " When, in 1830, O'Connell entered Parlia- 
ment, the anti-slavery cause was so weak that it had 30 
only Lushington and myself to speak for it; and we 
agreed that when he spoke I should cheer him, and 
when I spoke he should cheer me; and these were the 



208 WENDELL PHILLLPS. 

only cheers we ever got. O'Connell came, with one 
Irish member to support him. A large number of 
members [I think Buxton said twenty-seven] whom 
we called the West-India interest, the Bristol party, 
5 the slave party, went to him, saying, ' O'Connell, at 
last you are in the House, with one helper. If you 
will never go down to Freemasons' Hall with Bux- 
ton and Brougham, here are twenty-seven votes for 
you on every Irish question. If you work with those 

10 Abolitionists, count us always against you.' " 

It was a terrible temptation. How many a so- 
called statesman would have yielded! O'Connell said, 
" Gentlemen, God knows I speak for the saddest peo- 
ple the sun sees; but may my right hand forget its 

15 cunning, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my 
mouth, if to save Ireland, even Ireland, I forget the 
negro one single hour! " " From that day," said 
Buxton, " Lushington and I never went into the lobby 
that O'Connell did not follow us." 

20 Some years afterward I went into Conciliation 
Hall, where O'Connell was arguing for repeal. He 
lifted from the table a thousand-pound note sent them 
from New Orleans, and said to be from the slave- 
holders of that city. Coming to the front of the plat- 

25 form he said : " This is a draft of one thousand pounds 
from the slave-holders of New Orleans, the unpaid 
wages of the negro. Mr. Treasurer, I suppose the 
treasury is empty? " The treasurer nodded to show 
him that it was, and he went on : " Old Ireland is 

30 very poor ; but thank God she is not poor enough to 
take the unpaid wages of anybody. Send it back." 
A gentleman from Boston went to him with a letter 
of introduction which he sent up to him at his house 



DANIEL O'CONNELL. 209 

in Merrion Square. O'Connell came down to the 
door, as was his wont, put out both his hands, and 
drew him into his library. " I am glad to see you," 
said he; "I am always glad to see anybody from 
Massachusetts, a free State." " But," said the guest, 5 
" this is slavery you allude to, Mr. O'Connell. I 
would like to say a word to you in justification of that 
institution." " Very well, sir — free speech in this 
house; say anything you please. But before you be- 
gin to defend a man's right to own his own brother, 10 
allow me to step out and lock up my spoons." 

That was the man. The ocean of his philanthropy 
knew no shore. 

And right in this connection, let me read the follow- 
ing dispatch: 15 

Cincinnati, O., August 6. 
Wendell Phillips, Boston : 

The national conference of colored newspaper-men to the O'Con- 
nell Celebration, greeting : 

Resolved, That it is befitting a convention of colored men assembled 20 
on the centennial anniversary of the birth of the liberator of Ireland 
and friend of humanity, Daniel O'Connell, to recall with gratitude 
his eloquent and effective pleas for the freedom of our race ; and we 
earnestly commend his example to our countrymen. 

J. C. Jackson, Secretary. 25 

Peter H. Clark, President. 
George T. Ruby. 
Lewis D. Easton. 

Learn of him, friends, the hardest lesson we ever 
have set us — that of toleration. The foremost Catho- 30 
lie of his age, the most stalwart champion of the 
Church, he was also broadly and sincerely tolerant of 
every faith. His toleration had no limit and no 
qualification. 



216 WENDELL PHILLLPS. 

I scorn and scout the word " toleration " ; it is an 

insolent term. No man, properly speaking, tolerates 

another. I do not tolerate a Catholic, neither does 

he tolerate me. We are equal, and acknowledge each 

5 other's right; that is the correct statement. 

That every man should be allowed freely to wor- 
ship God according to his conscience, that no man's 
civil rights should be affected by his religious creed, 
were both cardinal principles of O'Connell. He had 

10 no fear that any doctrine of his faith could be en- 
dangered by the freest possible discussion. 

Learn of him, also, sympathy with every race and 
every form of oppression. No matter who was the 
sufferer, or what the form of the injustice — starving 

15 Yorkshire peasant, imprisoned Chartist, persecuted 
Protestant, or negro slave; no matter of what right, 
personal or civil, the victim had been robbed; no mat- 
ter what religious pretext or political juggle alleged 
" necessity " as an excuse for his oppression; no mat- 

20 ter with what solemnities he had been devoted on the 
altar of slavery, — the moment O'Connell saw him, the 
altar and the god sank together in the dust, the victim 
was acknowledged a man and a brother, equal in all 
rights, and entitled to all the aid the great Irishman 

25 could give him. 

I have no time to speak of his marvelous success 
at the bar; of that profound skill in the law which 
enabled him to conduct such an agitation, always on 
the verge of illegality and violence, without once sub- 

30 jecting himself or his followers to legal penalty — an 
agitation under a code of which Brougham said, " No 
Catholic could lift his hand under it without breaking 
the law." I have no time to speak of his still more 



DANIEL a CON NELL. 2il 

remarkable success in the House of Commons. Of 
Flood's failure there Grattan had said, " He was an 
oak of the forest, too old and too great to be trans- 
planted at fifty." Grattan's own success there was but 
moderate. The power O'Connell wielded against 5 
varied, bitter, and unscrupulous opposition was 
marvelous. I have no time to speak of his personal 
independence, his deliberate courage, moral and physi- 
cal, his unspotted private character, his unfailing hope, 
the versatility of his talent, his power of tireless work, 10 
his ingenuity and boundless resource, his matchless 
self-possession in every emergency, his ready and in- 
exhaustible wit; but any reference to O'Connell that 
omitted his eloquence would be painting Wellington 
in the House of Lords without mention of Torres 15 
Vedras or Waterloo. 

Broadly considered, his eloquence has never been 
equaled in modern times, certainly not in English 
speech. Do you think I am partial? I will vouch 
John Randolph of Roanoke, the Virginia slave- 20 
holder, who hated an Irishman almost as much as he 
hated a Yankee, himself an orator of no mean level. 
Hearing O'Connell, he exclaimed, " This is the man, 
these are the lips, the most eloquent that speak Eng- 
lish in my day." I think he was right. I remember 25 
the solemnity of Webster, the grace of Everett, the 
rhetoric of Choate; I know the eloquence that lay hid 
in the iron logic of Calhoun; I have melted beneath 
the magnetism of Seargeant S. Prentiss of Mississippi, 
who wielded a power few men ever had. It has been 30 
my fortune to sit at the feet of the great speakers of the 
English tongue on the other side of the ocean. But I 
think all of them together never surpassed, and no one 



212 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

of them ever equaled, O'Connell. Nature intended 
him for our Demosthenes. Never since the great 
Greek, has she sent forth anyone so lavishly gifted for 
his work as a tribune of the people. In the first place, 

5 he had a magnificent presence, impressive in bearing, 
massive like that of Jupiter. Webster himself hardly 
outdid him in the majesty of his proportions. To be 
sure, he had not Webster's craggy face, and precipice 
of brow, nor his eyes glowing like anthracite coal; nor 

10 had he the lion roar of Mirabeau. But his presence 
filled the eye. A small O'Connell would hardly have 
been an O'Connell at all. These physical advantages 
are half the battle. 

I remember Russell Lowell telling us that Mr. 

15 Webster came home from Washington at the time the 
Whig party thought of dissolution a year or two be- 
fore his death, and went down to Faneuil Hall to pro- 
test; drawing himself up to his loftiest proportion, his 
brow clothed with thunder, before the listening thou- 

20 sands, he said, " Well, gentlemen, I am a Whig, a 
Massachusetts Whig, a Faneuil-Hall Whig, a revo- 
lutionary Whig, a constitutional Whig. If you break 
the Whig party, sir, where am I to go?" And says 
Lowell, " We held our breath, thinking where he could 

25 go. If he had been five feet three, we should have 
said, ' Who cares where you go? ' ' So it was with 
O'Connell. There was something majestic in his 
presence before he spoke; and he added to it what 
Webster had not, what Clay might have lent — in- 

30 finite grace, that magnetism that melts all hearts into 
one. I saw him at over sixty-six years of age; every 
attitude was beauty, every gesture grace. You could 
only think of a greyhound as you looked at him; it 



DANIEL aCONNELL. 213 

would have been delicious to have watched him, if he 
had not spoken a word. Then he had a voice that 
covered the gamut. The majesty of his indignation, 
fitly uttered in tones of superhuman power, made him 
able to " indict " a nation, in spite of Burke's protest. 5 

I heard him once say, " I send my voice across the 
Atlantic, careering like the thunderstorm against the 
breeze, to tell the slave-holder of the Carolinas that 
God's thunderbolts are hot, and to remind the bond- 
man that the dawn of his redemption is already break- 10 
ing." You seemed to hear the tones come echoing 
back to London from the Rocky Mountains. Then, 
with the slightest possible Irish brogue, he would tell 
a story, while all Exeter Hall shook with laughter. 
The next moment, tears in his voice like a Scotch 15 
song, five thousand men wept. And all the while no 
effort. He seemed only breathing. 

' ' As effortless as woodland nooks 

Send violets up, and paint them blue." 

We used to say of Webster, " This is a great 20 
effort " ; of Everett, " It is a beautiful effort " ; but you 
never used the word " effort " in speaking of O'Con- 
nell. It provoked you that he would not make an 
effort. I heard him perhaps a score of times, and I do 
not think more than three times he ever lifted himself 25 
to the full sweep of his power. 

And this wonderful power, it was not a thunder- 
storm: he flanked you with his wit, he surprised you 
out of yourself; you were conquered before you knew 
it. He was once summoned to court out of the hunt- 30 
ing-field, when a young friend of his of humble birth 
was on trial for his life. The evidence gathered 
around a hat found by the body of the murdered man, 



214 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

which was recognized as the hat of the prisoner. The 
lawyers tried to break down the evidence, confuse the 
testimony, and get some relief from the directness of 
the circumstances; but in vain, until at last they called 
5 for O'Connell. He came in, flung his riding-whip and 
hat on the table, was told the circumstances, and tak- 
ing up the hat said to the witness, " Whose hat is 
this?" "Well, Mr. O'Connell, that is Mike's hat." 
" How do you know it? " " I will swear to it, sir." 

10 " And did you really find it by the murdered man?" 
" I did that, sir." " But you're not ready to swear 
that? " " I am, indeed, Mr. O'Connell." " Pat, do 
you know what hangs on your word? A human soul. 
And with that dread burden, are you ready to tell this 

15 jury that the hat, to your certain knowledge, belongs 
to the prisoner?" " Y-yes, Mr. O'Connell; yes, 
I am." 

O'Connell takes the hat to the nearest window, and 
peers into it — " J-a-m-e-s, James. Now, Pat, did you 

20 see that name in the hat? " " I did, Mr. O'Connell." 

" You knew it was there? " " Yes, sir; I read it after 

I picked it up." " No name in the hat, your Honor." 

So again in the House of Commons. When he 

took his seat in the House of 1830, the London Times 

25 visited him with its constant indignation, reported his 
speeches awry, turned them inside out, and made non- 
sense of them; treated him as the New York Herald 
used to treat us Abolitionists twenty years ago. So 
one morning he rose and said, "Mr. Speaker, you know 

30 I have never opened my lips in this house, and I ex- 
pended twenty years of hard work in getting the right 
to enter it — I have never lifted my voice in this House, 
but in behalf of the saddest people the sun shines on. 



DANIEL 0' CON NELL. 215 

Is it fair play, Mr. Speaker, is it what you call ' Eng- 
lish fair play,' that the press of this city will not let 
my voice be heard?" The next day the Times sent 
him word that, as he found fault with their manner of 
reporting him, they never would report him at all, 5 
they never would print his name in their parliamentary 
columns. So the next day when prayers were ended, 
O'Connell rose. Those reporters of the Times who 
were in the gallery rose also, ostentatiously put away 
their pencils, folded their arms, and made all the show 10 
they could, to let everybody know how it was. Well, 
you know, nobody has any right to be in the gallery 
during the session, and if any member notices them, 
the mere notice clears the gallery; only the reporters 
can stay after that notice. O'Connell rose. One of 15 
the members said, " Before the member from Clare 
opens his speech, let me call his attention to the gal- 
lery and the instance of that ' passive resistance ' 
which he is about to preach." " Thank you," said 
O'Connell: "Mr. Speaker, I observe strangers in the 20 
gallery." Of course they left; of course the next day, 
in the columns of the London Times, there were no 
parliamentary debates. And for the first time, except 
in Richard Cobden's case, the London Times cried for 
quarter, and said to O'Connell, " If you give up the 25 
quarrel, we will." 

Later down, when he was advocating the repeal of 
the land law, when forty or fifty thousand people were 
gathered at the meeting, O'Connell was sitting at the 
breakfast-table. The London Times for that year had 30 
absolutely disgraced itself, — and that is saying a great 
deal, — and its reporters, if recognized, would have 
been torn to pieces. So, as O'Connell was breakfast- 



216 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

ing, the door opened, and two or three English re- 
porters — Gurney and, among others, our well-known 
friend Russell, of Bull Run notoriety — entered the 
room and said, " Mr. O'Connell, we are the reporters 

5 of the Times." " And," said Russell, " we dared not 
enter that crowd." 

" Shouldn't think you would," replied O'Connell. 
" Have you had any breakfast? " 

"No, sir," said he; "we hardly dared to ask for 

io any." 

" Shouldn't think you would," answered O'Connell; 
" sit down here." So they shared his breakfast. 
Then he took Bull Run in his own carriage to the 
place of meeting, sent for a table, and seated him by 

15 the platform, and asked him whether he had his pen- 
cils well sharpened and had plenty of paper, as he in- 
tended to make a long speech. Bull Run answered, 
" Yes." And O'Connell stood up, and addressed the 
audience in Irish. 

20 His marvelous voice, its almost incredible power 
and sweetness, Bulwer has well described: 

4 ' Once to my sight that giant form was given, 
Walled by wide air; and roofed by boundless heaven. 
Beneath his feet the human ocean lay, 

25 And wave on wave rolled into space away. 

Methought no clarion could have sent its sound 

Even to the center of the hosts around ; 

And, as I thought, rose the sonorous swell, 

As from some church-tower swings the silvery bell. 

30 Aloft and clear, from airy tide to tide 

It glided, easy as a bird may glide ; 
Even to the verge of that vast audience sent, 
It played with each wild passion as it went, — 
Now stirred the uproar, now the murmur stilled, 

35 And sobs or laughter answered as it willed." 



DANIEL a CON NELL. 217 

Webster could awe a senate, Everett could charm 
a college, and Choate could cheat a jury; Clay could 
magnetize the million, and Corwin led them captive. 
O'Connell was Clay, Corwin, Choate, Everett, and 
Webster in one. Before the courts, logic; at the bar 5 
of the senate, unanswerable and dignified; on the plat- 
form, grace, wit, pathos; before the masses, a whole 
man. Carlyle says, " He is God's own anointed king 
whose single word melts all wills into his." This de- 
scribes O'Connell. Emerson says, " There is no true 10 
eloquence, unless there is a man behind the speech." 
Daniel O'Connell was listened to because all England 
and all Ireland knew that there was a man behind the 
speech — one who could be neither bought, bullied, nor 
cheated. He held the masses free but willing sub- 15 
jects in his hand. 

He owed this power to the courage that met every 
new question frankly, and concealed none of his con- 
victions; to an entireness of devotion that made the 
people feel he was all their own; to a masterly brain 20 
that made them sure they were always safe in his 
hands. Behind them were ages of bloodshed: every 
rising had ended at the scaffold; even Grattan brought 
them to 1798. O'Connell said, " Follow me: put your 
feet where mine have trod, and a sheriff shall never 25 
lay hand on your shoulder." And the great lawyer 
kept his pledge. 

This unmatched, long-continued power almost 
passes belief. You can only appreciate it by com- 
parison. Let me carry you back to the mob-year of 30 
1835, in this country, when the Abolitionists were 
hunted; when the streets roared with riot; when from 
Boston to Baltimore, from St. Louis to Philadelphia, 



218 WENDELL PHLLLIPS. 

a mob took possession of every city; when private 
houses were invaded and public halls were burned; 
press after press was thrown into the river; and Love- 
joy baptized freedom with his blood. You remem- 
5 ber it. Respectable journals warned the mob that 
they were playing into the hands of the Abolitionists. 
Webster and Clay and the staff of Whig statesmen 
told the people that the truth floated farther on the 
shouts of the mob than the most eloquent lips could 

10 carry it. But law-abiding, Protestant, educated 
America could not be held back. Neither Whig 
chiefs nor respectable journals could keep these peo- 
ple quiet. Go to England. When the Reform Bill 
of 183 1 was thrown out from the House of Lords, the 

15 people were tumultuous; and Melbourne and Grey, 
Russell and Brougham, Lansdowne, Holland, and 
Macaulay, the Whig chiefs, cried out, " Don't violate 
the law: you help the Tories! Riots put back the 
bill." But quiet, sober John Bull, law-abiding, could 

20 not do without it. Birmingham was three days in the 
hands of a mob; castles were burned; Wellington 
ordered the Scots Greys to rough-grind their swords 
as at Waterloo. This was the Whig aristocracy of 
England. O'Connell had neither office nor title. Be- 

25 hind him were three million people steeped in utter 
wretchedness, sore with the oppression of centuries, 
ignored by statute. 

For thirty restless and turbulent years he stood in 
front of them, and said, " Remember, he that com- 

30 mits a crime helps the enemy." And during that long 
and fearful struggle, I do not remember one of his 
followers ever being convicted of a political offense, 
and during this period crimes of violence were very 



DANIEL O'CONNELL. 219 

rare. There is no such record in our history. 
Neither in classic nor in modern times can the man 
be produced who held a million of people in his right 
hand so passive. It was due to the consistency and 
unity of a character that had hardly a flaw. I do not 5 
forget your soldiers, orators, or poets — any of your 
leaders. But when I consider O'Connell's personal 
disinterestedness, — his rare, brave fidelity to every 
cause his principles covered, no matter how unpopu- 
lar, or how embarrassing to his main purpose, — that 10 
clear, far-reaching vision, and true heart which, on 
most moral and political questions, set him so much 
ahead of his times ; his eloquence, almost equally effect- 
ive in the courts, in the senate, and before the masses; 
that sagacity which set at naught the malignant vigi- 15 
lance of the whole imperial bar, watching thirty years 
for a misstep; when I remember that he invented his 
tools, and then measure his limited means with his 
vast success, bearing in mind its nature; when I see 
the sobriety and moderation with which he used his 20 
measureless power, and the lofty, generous purpose of 
his whole life, — I am ready to affirm that he was, all 
things considered, the greatest man the Irish race 
ever produced. 



THE COMMEMORATIVE ORATION. 

CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

Born 1834. 

THE ONE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY OF 
THE INAUGURATION OF PRESIDENT 
WASHINGTON. 

[The one hundreth anniversary of the inauguration of President 
Washington was celebrated in New York City, April 29 and 30 and 
May 1, 1889, with appropriate ceremonies. The first of these days 
was devoted to a naval parade and a ball given at the Metropolitan 
Opera House. On the morning of the second, after services in St. 
Paul's Chapel, which Washington had attended before he was in- 
augurated, literary exercises were held on the site of the old Federal 
Hall, where the oath of office had been administered. In the after- 
noon there was a great land parade of soldiery and in the evening a 
banquet given by the city to the visiting guests, who included the 
President and Vice-President of the United States, two ex-Presidents, 
the judges of the Supreme Court, and the governors of many States. 
At the literary exercises of this day, after the reading of a poem 
written for the occasion by Whittier, Mr. Depew delivered this 
oration. 

The oration is here reprinted, through the courtesy of Mr. Depew 
and with the permission of the Cassell Publishing Company, from Mr. 
Depew's Orations and After-Dinner Speeches.'] 

We celebrate to-day the Centenary of our Nation- 
ality. One hundred years ago the United States be- 
gan their existence. The powers of government were 
assumed by the people of the Republic, and they 
5 became the sole source of authority. The solemn cere- 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 221 

monial of the first inauguration, the reverent oath of 
Washington, the acclaim of the multitude greeting 
their President, marked the most unique event of 
modern times in the development of free institutions. 

The occasion was not an accident, but a result. It 5 
was the culmination of the working out, by mighty 
forces through many centuries, of the problem of self- 
government. It was not the triumph of a system, the 
application of a theory, or the reduction to practice of 
the abstractions of philosophy. The time, the coun- 10 
try, the heredity and environment of the people, and 
the folly of its enemies, and the noble courage of its 
friends, gave to liberty, after ages of defeat, of trial, of 
experiment, of partial success and substantial gains, 
this immortal victory. Henceforth it had a refuge and 15 
recruiting station. The oppressed found free homes 
in this favored land, and invisible armies marched from 
it by mail and telegraph, by speech and song, by pre- 
cept and example, to regenerate the world. 

Puritans in New England, Dutchmen in New York, 20 
Catholics in Maryland, Huguenots in South Carolina, 
had felt the fires of persecution and were wedded to 
religious liberty. They had been purified in the fur- 
nace, and in high debate and on bloody battle-fields 
had learned to sacrifice all material interests and to 25 
peril their lives for human rights. The principles of 
constitutional government had been impressed upon 
them by hundreds of years of struggle, and for each 
principle they could point to the grave of an ancestor 
whose death attested the ferocity of the fight and the 30 
value of the concession wrung from arbitrary power. 
They knew the limitations of authority; they could 
pledge their lives and fortunes to resist encroach- 



222 CH A UNCE Y M. DEPE W. 

ments upon their rights; but it required the lesson of 
Indian massacres, the invasion of the armies of France 
from Canada, the tyranny of the British Crown, the 
seven years' war of the Revolution, and the five years 
5 of chaos of the Confederation, to evolve the idea upon 
which rest the power and permanency of the Republic, 
that liberty and union are one and inseparable. 

The traditions and experience of the colonists had 
made them alert to discover, and quick to resist, any 

10 peril to their liberties. Above all things, they feared 
and distrusted power. The town meeting and the 
colonial legislature gave them confidence in them- 
selves and courage to check the royal governors. 
Their interests, hopes, and affections were in their 

15 several commonwealths, and each blow by the British 
Ministry at their freedom, each attack upon their 
rights as Englishmen, weakened their love for the 
Motherland and intensified their hostility to the 
Crown. But the same causes which broke down their 

20 allegiance to the Central Government increased their 
confidence in their respective colonies, and their faith 
in liberty was largely dependent upon the maintenance 
of the sovereignty of their several States. The 
farmer's shot at Lexington echoed round the world; 

25 the spirit which it awakened from its slumbers could 
do and dare and die; but it had not yet discovered 
the secret of the permanence and progress of free 
institutions. Patrick Henry thundered in the Vir- 
ginia convention; James Otis spoke with trumpet 

30 tongue and fervid eloquence for united action in 
Massachusetts; Hamilton, Jay, and Clinton pledged 
New York to respond with men and money for the 
common cause; but their vision only saw a league of 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 223 

independent colonies. The veil was not yet drawn 
from before the vista of population and power, of em- 
pire and liberty, which would open with National 
Union. 

The Continental Congress partially grasped, but 5 
completely expressed, the central idea of the American 
Republic. More fully than any other that ever assem- 
bled did it represent the victories won from arbitrary 
power for human rights. In the New World it was 
the conservator of liberties secured through centuries 10 
of struggle in the Old. Among the delegates were the 
descendants of the men who had stood in the brilliant 
array upon the field of Runnymede, which wrested 
from King John Magna Charta, that great charter of 
liberty, to which Hallam, in the nineteenth century, 15 
bears witness " that all which has been since obtained 
is little more than a confirmation or commentary." 
There were the grandchildren of the statesmen who 
had summoned Charles before Parliament and com- 
pelled his assent to the Petition of Rights which trans- 20 
ferred power from the Crown to the Commons, and 
gave representative government to the English-speak- 
ing race. And there were those who had sprung from 
the iron soldiers who had fought and charged with 
Cromwell at Naseby and Dunbar and Marston Moor. 25 
Among its members were Huguenots, whose fathers 
had followed the White Plume of Henry of Navarre, 
and in an age of bigotry, intolerance, and the deifica- 
tion of absolutism, had secured the great edict of reli- 
gious liberty from French despotism, and who had 30 
become a people without a country rather than sur- 
render their convictions and forswear their consciences. 
In this Congress were those whose ancestors were 



224 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

the countrymen of William of Orange, the Beg- 
gars of the Sea, who had survived the cruelties of Alva 
and broken the yoke of proud Philip of Spain, and who 
had two centuries before made a declaration of inde- 

5 pendence and formed a federal union which were 
models of freedom and strength. 

These men were not revolutionists, they were the 
heirs and the guardians of the priceless treasures of 
mankind. The British King and his Ministers were 

10 the revolutionists. They were reactionaries, seeking 
arbitrarily to turn back the hands upon the dial of 
time. A year of doubt and debate, the baptism of 
blood upon the battle-fields, where soldiers from every 
colony fought under a common standard, and con- 

15 solidated the Continental Army, gradually lifted the 
soul and understanding of this immortal Congress to 
the sublime declaration: ''We, therefore, the repre- 
sentatives of the United States of America, in Gen- 
eral Congress assembled, appealing to the Supreme 

20 Judge of the World for the rectitude of our intentions, 
do, in the name and by the authority of the good peo- 
ple of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare 
that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to 
be, free and independent States." 

25 To this Declaration John Hancock, proscribed and 
threatened with death, affixed a signature which has 
stood for a century like the pointers to the North Star 
in the firmament of freedom, and Charles Carroll, 
taunted that, among many Carrolls, he, the richest 

30 man in America, might escape, added description and 
identification with " of Carrollton." Benjamin Har- 
rison, a delegate from Virginia, the ancestor of the dis- 
tinguished statesman and soldier who to-day so 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 225 

worthily fills the chair of Washington, voiced the un- 
alterable determination and defiance of the Congress. 
He seized John Hancock, upon whose head a price 
was set, in his arms, and placing him in the Presiden- 
tial chair, said: "We will show Mother Britain how 5 
little we care for her, by making our President a 
Massachusetts man, whom she has excluded from 
pardon by public proclamation " ; and when they were 
signing the Declaration, and the slender Elbridge 
Gerry uttered the grim pleasantry, " We must hang 10 
together, or surely we will hang separately," the 
portly Harrison responded with the more daring 
humor, " It will be all over with me in a moment; 
but you will be kicking in the air half an hour after 
I am gone." Thus flashed athwart the great Charter, 15 
which was to be for its signers a death-warrant or a 
diploma of immortality, as with firm hand, high pur- 
pose, and undaunted resolution, they subscribed their 
names, this mockery of fear and the penalties of 
treason. 20 

The grand central idea of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence was the sovereignty of the People. It re- 
lied for original power, not upon States or colonies, 
or their citizens as such, but recognized as the au- 
thority for nationality the revolutionary rights of the 25 
people of the United States. It stated with marvelous 
clearness the encroachments upon liberties which 
threatened their suppression and justified revolt, but 
it was inspired by the very genius of freedom, and the 
prophetic possibilities of united commonwealths 30 
covering the continent in one harmonious republic, 
when it made the people of the thirteen colonies all 
Americans, and devolved upon them to administer, 



226 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

by themselves and for themselves, the prerogatives 
and powers wrested from Crown and Parliament. It 
condensed Magna Charta, the Petition of Rights, the 
great body of English liberties embodied in the com- 
5 mon law and accumulated in the decisions of the 
courts, the statutes of the realm, and an undisputed 
though unwritten Constitution; but this original 
principle and dynamic force of the people's power 
sprang from these old seeds planted in the virgin soil 

io of the New World. 

More clearly than any statesman of the period did 
Thomas Jefferson grasp and divine the possibilities of 
popular government. He caught and crystallized the 
spirit of free institutions. His philosophical mind 

15 was singularly free from the power of precedents or 
the chains of prejudice. He had an unquestioning 
and abiding faith in the people, which was accepted 
by but few of his compatriots. Upon his famous 
axiom of the equality of all men before the law, he 

20 constructed his system. It was the trip-hammer 
essential for the emergency to break the links binding 
the colonies to imperial authority, and to pulverize the 
privileges of caste. It inspired him to write the 
Declaration of Independence, and persuaded him to 

25 doubt the wisdom of the powers concentrated in the 
Constitution. In his passionate love of liberty he be- 
came intensely jealous of authority. He destroyed the 
substance of royal prerogative, but never emerged 
from its shadow. He would have the States as the 

30 guardians of popular rights, and the barriers against 
centralization, and he saw in the growing power of 
the nation ever-increasing encroachments upon the 
rights of the people. For the success of the pure de- 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 227 

mocracy which must precede presidents and cabinets 
and congresses, it was perhaps providential that its 
apostle never believed a great people could grant and 
still retain, could give and at will reclaim, could dele- 
gate and yet firmly hold, the authority which ulti- 5 
mately created the power of their republic and 
enlarged the scope of their own liberty. 

Where this master-mind halted, all stood still. The 
necessity for a permanent union was apparent; but 
each State must have hold upon the bowstring which 10 
encircled its throat. It was admitted that union gave 
the machinery required to successfully fight the com- 
mon enemy; but yet there was fear that it might be- 
come a Frankenstein and destroy its creators. Thus 
patriotism and fear, difficulties of communication be- 15 
tween distant communities, and the intense growth of 
provincial pride and interests, led this Congress to 
frame the Articles of Confederation, happily termed 
the League of Friendship The result was not a gov- 
ernment, but a ghost. By this scheme the American 20 
people were ignored and the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence reversed. The States, by their legislatures, 
elected delegates to Congress, and the delegate repre- 
sented the sovereignty of his commonwealth. 

All the States had an equal voice, without regard to 25 
their size or population. It required the vote of nine 
States to pass any bill, and five could block the wheels 
of government. Congress had none of the powers 
essential to sovereignty. It could neither levy taxes 
nor impose duties nor collect excise. For the support 30 
of the Army and Navy, for the purposes of war, for the 
preservation of its own functions, it could only call 
upon the States, but it possessed no power to enforce 



228 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

its demands. It had no president or executive au- 
thority, no supreme court with general jurisdiction, 
and no national power. Each of the thirteen States 
had seaports and levied discriminating duties against 
5 the others, and could also tax and thus prohibit inter- 
state commerce across its territory. Had the Confed- 
eration been a Union instead of a League, it could 
have raised and equipped three times the number of 
men contributed by reluctant States, and conquered 

10 independence without foreign assistance. This para- 
lyzed government — without strength, because it could 
not enforce its decrees; without credit, because it 
could pledge nothing for the payment of its debts; 
without respect, because without inherent authority — 

15 would, by its feeble life and early death, have added 
another to the historic tragedies which have in many 
lands marked the suppression of freedom, had it not 
been saved by the intelligent, inherited, and invincible 
understanding of liberty by the people, and the genius 

20 and patriotism of their leaders. 

But while the perils of war had given temporary 
strength to the Confederation, peace developed its 
fatal weakness. It derived no authority from the peo- 
ple, and could not appeal to them. Anarchy threat- 

25 ened its existence at home, and contempt met its 
representatives abroad. 

" Can you fulfill or enforce the obligations of the 
treaty on your part if we sign one with you? " was the 
sneer of the courts of the Old World to our ambassa- 

30 dors. Some States gave a half-hearted support to its 
demands; others defied them. The loss of public 
credit was speedily followed by universal bankruptcy. 
The wildest fantasies assumed the force of serious 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION 229 

measures for the relief of the general distress. States 
passed exclusive and hostile laws against each other, 
and riot and disorder threatened the disintegration of 
society. " Our stock is stolen, our houses are plun- 
dered, our farms are raided," cried a delegate in the 5 
Massachusetts convention; "despotism is better than 
anarchy ! " To raise four millions of dollars a year 
was beyond the resources of the Government, and 
three hundred thousand was the limit of the loan it 
could secure from the money-lenders of Europe. 10 
Even Washington exclaimed in despair: " I see one 
head gradually changing into thirteen; I see one army 
gradually branching into thirteen; which, instead of 
looking up to Congress as the supreme controlling 
power, are considering themselves as depending on 15 
their respective States." And later, when independ- 
ence had been won, the impotency of the Government 
wrung from him the exclamation : " After gloriously 
and successfully contending against the usurpation of 
Great Britain, we may fall a prey to our own folly and 20 
disputes." 

But even through this Cimmerian darkness shot a 
flame which illumined the coming century, and kept 
bright the beacon-fires of liberty. The architects of 
constitutional freedom formed their institutions with 25 
wisdom which forecasted the future. They may not 
have understood at first the whole truth ; but, for that 
which they knew, they had the martyrs' spirit and the 
crusaders' enthusiasm. Though the Confederation 
was a government of checks without balances, and of 30 
purpose without power, the statesmen who guided it 
demonstrated often the resistless force of great souls 
animated by the purest patriotism; and united in 



230 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

judgment and effort to promote the common good, by 
lofty appeals and high reasoning, to elevate the masses 
above local greed and apparent self-interest to their 
own broad plane. 
5 The most significant triumph of these moral and in- 
tellectual forces was that which secured the assent of 
the States to the limitation of their boundaries, to the 
grant of the wilderness beyond them to the General 
Government, and to the insertion in the ordinance 

10 erecting the Northwest Territory of the immortal pro- 
viso prohibiting " slavery or involuntary servitude " 
within all that broad domain. The States carved out 
of this splendid concession were not sovereignties 
which had successfully rebelled, but they were the 

15 children of the Union, born of the covenant and 
thrilled with its life and liberty. They became the 
bulwarks of nationality and the buttresses of freedom. 
Their preponderating strength first checked and then 
broke the slave power; their fervid loyalty halted and 

20 held at bay the spirit of State rights and secession for 
generations; and when the crisis came, it was with 
their overwhelming assistance that the nation killed 
and buried its enemy. The corner stone of the edi- 
fice whose centenary we are celebrating was the Ordi- 

25 nance of 1787. It was constructed by the feeblest of 
congresses, but few enactments of ancient or modern 
times have had more far-reaching and beneficent in- 
fluence. It is one of the sublimest paradoxes of his- 
tory that this weak Confederation of States should 

30 have welded the chain against which, after seventy- 
four years of fretful efforts for release, its own spirit 
frantically dashed and died. 

The government of the Republic by a Congress of 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 231 

States, a diplomatic convention of the ambassadors of 
petty commonwealths, after seven years' trial, was fall- 
ing asunder. Threatened with civil war among its 
members, insurrection and lawlessness rife within the 
States, foreign commerce ruined and internal trade 5 
paralyzed, its currency worthless, its merchants bank- 
rupt, its farms mortgaged, its markets closed, its labor 
unemployed, it was like a helpless wreck upon the 
ocean, tossed about by the tides and ready to be en- 
gulfed in the storm. Washington gave the warning 10 
and called for action. It was a voice accustomed to 
command, but not entreat. The veterans of the war 
and the statesmen of the Revolution stepped to the 
front. The patriotism which had been misled, but 
had never faltered, rose above the interests of the 15 
States and the jealousies of jarring confederates to 
find the basis for union. " It is clear to me as A B C," 
said Washington, " that an extension of federal 
powers would make us one of the most happy, 
wealthy, respectable, and powerful nations that ever 20 
inhabited the terrestrial globe. Without them we 
shall soon be everything which is the direct reverse. 
I predict the worst consequences from a half-starved, 
limping government, always moving upon crutches 
and tottering at every step." The response of the 25 
country was the Convention of 1787, at Philadelphia. 
The Declaration of Independence was but the vesti- 
bule of the temple which this illustrious assembly 
erected. With no successful precedents to guide, it 
auspiciously worked out the problem of constitutional 30 
government, and of imperial power and home rule sup- 
plementing each other in promoting the grandeur of 
the nation and preserving the liberty of the individual. 



232 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

The deliberations of great councils have vitally 
affected, at different periods, the history of the world 
and the fate of empires; but this Congress builded, 
upon popular sovereignty, institutions broad enough 

5 to embrace the continent, and elastic enough to fit all 
conditions of race and traditions. The experience of 
a hundred years has demonstrated for us the perfec- 
tion of the work for defense against foreign foes, and 
for self-preservation against domestic insurrection, for 

10 limitless expansion in population and material de- 
velopment, and for steady growth in intellectual free- 
dom and force. Its continuing influence upon the 
welfare and destiny of the human race can only be 
measured by the capacity of man to cultivate and en- 

15 joy the boundless opportunities of liberty and law. 
The eloquent characterization of Mr. Gladstone con- 
denses its merits : " The American Constitution is the 
most wonderful work ever struck off at a given time 
by the brain and purpose of man." 

20 The statesmen who composed this great senate were 
equal to their trust. Their conclusions were the re- 
sult of calm debate and wise concession. Their char- 
acter and abilities were so pure and great as to com- 
mand the confidence of the country for the reversal 

25 of the policy of the independence of the State of the 
power of the General Government, which had hitherto 
been the invariable practice and almost universal 
opinion, and for the adoption of the idea of the nation 
and its supremacy. 

30 Towering in majesty and influence above them all 
stood Washington, their president. Beside him was 
the venerable Franklin, who, though eighty-one years 
of age, brought to the deliberation of the Convention 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 233 

the unimpaired vigor and resources of the wisest brain, 
the most hopeful philosophy, and the largest experi- 
ence of the times. Oliver Ellsworth, afterward Chief 
Justice of the United States, and the profoundest jurist 
in the country; Robert Morris, the wonderful financier 5 
of the Revolution, and Gouverneur Morris, the most 
versatile genius of his period; Roger Sherman, one of 
the most eminent of the signers of the Declaration of 
Independence, and John Rutledge, Rufus King, El- 
bridge Gerry, Edmund Randolph, and the Pinckneys, 10 
were leaders of unequaled patriotism, courage, ability, 
and learning; while Alexander Hamilton and James 
Madison, as original thinkers and constructive states- 
men, rank among the immortal few whose opinions 
have for ages guided ministers of state, and deter- 15 
mined the destinies of nations. 

This great convention keenly felt, and with devout 
and serene intelligence met its tremendous responsi- 
bilities. It had the moral support of the few whose 
aspirations for liberty had been inspired or renewed 20 
by the triumph of the American Revolution, and the 
active hostility of every government in the world. 

There were no examples to follow, and the experi- 
ence of its members led part of them to lean toward 
absolute centralization as the only refuge from the 25 
anarchy of the Confederation, while the rest clung to 
the sovereignty of the States, for fear that the concen- 
tration of power would end in the absorption of lib- 
erty. The large States did not want to surrender the 
advantage of their position, and the smaller States saw 30 
the danger to their existence. The Leagues of the 
Greek cities had ended in loss of freedom, tyranny, 
conquest, and destruction. Roman conquest and 



234 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

assimilation had strewn the shores of time with the 
wrecks of empires, and plunged civilization into the 
perils and horrors of the Dark Ages. The govern- 
ment of Cromwell was the isolated power of the 
5 mightiest man of his age, without popular authority 
to fill his place or the hereditary principle to protect 
his successor. 

The past furnished no light for our state-builders; 
the present was full of doubt and despair. The future, 

io the experiment of self-government, the perpetuity and 
development of freedom, almost the destiny of man- 
kind, was in their hands. 

At this crisis the courage and confidence needed to 
originate a system weakened. The temporizing spirit 

15 of compromise seized the Convention, with the allur- 
ing proposition of not proceeding faster than the peo- 
ple could be educated to follow. The cry, " Let us 
not waste our labor upon conclusions which will not 
be adopted, but amend and adjourn," was assuming 

20 startling unanimity. But the supreme force and 
majestic sense of Washington brought the assemblage 
to the lofty plane of its duty and opportunity. He 
said: " It is too probable that no plan we propose will 
be adopted. Perhaps another dreadful conflict is to 

25 be sustained. If to please the people we offer what 
we ourselves disapprove, how can we afterward de- 
fend our work? Let us raise a standard to which the 
wise and honest can repair; the event is in the hands of 
God." "I am the state," said Louis XIV.; but his 

30 line ended in the grave of absolutism. " Forty cen- 
turies look down upon you," was Napoleon's address 
to his army, in the shadow of the Pyramids; but his 
soldiers saw the dream of Eastern Empire vanish in 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 235 

blood. Statesmen and parliamentary leaders have 
sunk into oblivion, or led their party to defeat, by 
surrendering their convictions to the passing passions 
of the hour; but Washington, in his immortal speech, 
struck the keynote of representative obligation, and 5 
propounded the fundamental principle of the purity 
and perpetuity of constitutional government. 

Freed from the limitations of its environment, and 
the question of the adoption of its work, the Conven- 
tion erected its government upon the eternal founda- 10 
tions of the power of the people. 

It dismissed the delusive theory of a compact be- 
tween independent States, and derived national power 
from the people of the United States. It broke up the 
machinery of the Confederation, and put in practical 15 
operation the glittering generalities of the Declaration 
of Independence. From chaos came order, from inse- 
curity came safety, from disintegration and civil war 
came law and liberty, with the principle proclaimed in 
the preamble of the great charter : " We, the people of 20 
the United States, in order to form a more perfect 
union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity, 
provide for the common defense, promote the general 
welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to our- 
selves and our posterity, do ordain and establish this 25 
Constitution for the United States." With a wisdom 
inspired of God, to work out upon this continent the 
liberty of man, they solved the problem of the ages by 
blending, and yet preserving, local self-government 
with national authority, and the rights of the States 30 
with the majesty and power of the Republic. The 
government of the States, under the Articles of the 
Confederation, became bankrupt because it could not 



23 6 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

raise four millions of dollars; the government of the 
Union, under the Constitution of the United States, 
raised six thousand millions of dollars, its credit grow- 
ing firmer as its power and resources were demon- 
5 strated. The Congress of the Confederation fled 
from a regiment which it could not pay; the Congress 
of the Union reviewed the comrades of a million of its 
victorious soldiers, saluting as they marched the flag 
of the nation whose supremacy they had sustained. 

10 The promises of the Confederacy were the scoff of its 
States; the pledge of the Republic was the honor of 
its people. 

The Constitution, which was to be strengthened by 
the strain of a century, to be a mighty conqueror with- 

15 out a subject province, to triumphantly survive the 
greatest of civil wars without the confiscation of an 
estate or the execution of a political offender, to create 
and grant home rule and state sovereignty to twenty- 
nine additional commonwealths, and yet enlarge its 

20 scope and broaden its power, and to make the name 
of an American citizen a title of honor throughout the 
world, came complete from the great Convention to 
the people for adoption. As Hancock rose from his 
seat in the old Congress, eleven years before, to sign 

25 the Declaration of Independence, Franklin saw em- 
blazoned on the back of the President's chair the sun 
partly above the horizon, but it seemed setting in a 
blood-red sky. During the seven years of the Con- 
federation he had gathered no hope from the glittering 

30 emblem, but now as with clear vision he beheld fixed 
upon eternal foundations the enduring structure of 
constitutional liberty, pointing to the sign, he forgot 
his eighty-two years, and, with the enthusiasm of 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 237 

youth, electrified the Convention with the declaration: 
" Now I know that it is the rising sun." 

The pride of the States and the ambition of their 
leaders, sectional jealousies and the overwhelming dis- 
trust of centralized power, were all arrayed against the 5 
adoption of the Constitution. North Carolina and 
Rhode Island refused to join the Union until long 
after Washington's inauguration. For months New 
York was debatable ground. Her territory, extend- 
ing from the sea to the lakes, made her the keystone 10 
of the arch. Had Arnold's treason in the Revolution 
not been foiled by the capture of Andre, England 
would have held New York and subjugated the colo- 
nies; and in this crisis, unless New York assented, a 
hostile and powerful commonwealth dividing the 15 
States made the Union impossible. 

Success was due to confidence in Washington and 
the genius of Alexander Hamilton. Jefferson was the 
inspiration of Independence, but Hamilton was the 
incarnation of the Constitution. In no age or country 20 
has there appeared a more precocious or amazing 
intelligence than Hamilton's. At seventeen he anni- 
hilated the president of his college, upon the question 
of rights of the colonies, in a series of anonymous 
articles which were credited to the ablest men in the 25 
country; at forty-seven, when he died, his briefs had 
become the law of the land, and his fiscal system was, 
and after a hundred years remains, the rule and policy 
of our Government. He gave life to the corpse of 
national credit, and the strength for self-preservation 30 
and aggressive power to the Federal Union. Both as 
an expounder of the principles and an administrator of 
the affairs of the Government he stands supreme and 



238 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

unrivaled in American history. His eloquence was so 
magnetic, his language so clear, and his reasoning so 
irresistible that he swayed with equal ease popular 
assemblies, grave senates, and learned judges. He 
5 captured the people of the whole country for the Con- 
stitution by his papers in The Federalist, and conquered 
the hostile majority in the New York Convention by 
the splendor of his oratory. 

But the multitudes whom no argument could con- 

10 vince, who saw in the executive power and centralized 
force of the Constitution, under another name, the 
dreaded usurpation of king and ministry, were satis- 
fied only with the assurance, " Washington will be 
President." " Good," cried John Lamb, the able 

15 leader of the Sons of Liberty, as he dropped his oppo- 
sition; " for to no other mortal would I trust authority 
so enormous." " Washington will be President," 
was the battle-cry of the Constitution. It quieted 
alarm, and gave confidence to the timid and courage 

20 to the weak. 

The country responded with enthusiastic unanimity, 
but the Chief with the greatest reluctance. In the su- 
preme moment of victory, when the world expected 
him to follow the precedents of the past, and perpetu- 

25 ate the power a grateful country would willingly have 
left in his hands, he had resigned and retired to Mount 
Vernon to enjoy in private station his well-earned 
rest. The Convention created by his exertions to 
prevent, as he said, " the decline of our federal dignity 

30 into insignificant and wretched fragments of empire," 
had called him to preside over its deliberations. Its 
work made possible the realization of his hope that 
" we might survive as an independent republic," and 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 2 39 

again he sought the seclusion of his home. But after 
the triumph of war, and the formation of the Consti- 
tution came the third and final crisis ; the initial move- 
ments of government which were to teach the infant 
state the steadier steps of empire. 5 

He alone could stay assault and inspire confidence 
while the great and complicated machinery of organ- 
ized government was put in order and set in motion. 
Doubt existed nowhere except in his modest and unam- 
bitious heart. " My movements to the chair of gov- 10 
ernment," he said, " will be accompanied with feel- 
ings not unlike those of a culprit who is going to the 
place of his execution. So unwilling am I, in the 
evening of life, nearly consumed in public cares, to 
quit a peaceful abode for an ocean of difficulties, with- 15 
out that competency of political skill, abilities, and in- 
clination, which are necessary to manage the helm." 
His whole life had been spent in repeated sacrifices for 
his country's welfare, and he did not hesitate now, 
though there is an undertone of inexpressible sadness 20 
in this entry in his diary on the night of his departure : 

" About ten o'clock I bade adieu to Mount Vernon, 
to private life, and to domestic felicity, and with a 
mind oppressed with more anxious and painful sensa- 
tions than I have words to express, set out for New 25 
York with the best disposition to render service to my 
country in obedience to its call, but with less hope of 
answering its expectations." 

No conqueror was ever accorded such a triumph, no 
ruler ever received such a welcome. In this * memo- 30 
rable march of six days to the Capitol, it was the 
pride of the States to accompany him with the masses 
of their people to their borders, that the citizens of the 



240 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

next commonwealth might escort him through its 
territory. It was the glory of the cities to receive 
him with every civic honor at their gates, and enter- 
tain him as the savior of their liberties. He rode 
5 under triumphal arches from which children lowered 
laurel wreaths upon his brow. The roadways were 
strewn with flowers, and, as they were crushed beneath 
his horse's hoofs, their sweet incense wafted to Heaven 
the ever-ascending prayers of his loving countrymen 

io for his life and safety. The swelling anthem of grati- 
tude and reverence greeted and followed him along 
the country-side and through the crowded streets: 
" Long live George Washington ! Long live the 
Father of his People! " 

15 His entry into New York was worthy the city and 
State. He was met by the chief officers of the retiring 
Government of the country, by the Governor of the 
Commonwealth, and the whole population. This 
superb harbor was alive with fleets and flags; and the 

20 ships of other nations, with salutes from their guns, 
and the cheers of their crews, added to the joyous 
acclaim. 

But as the captains, who had asked the privilege, 
bending proudly to their oars, rowed the President's 

25 barge swiftly through these inspiring scenes, Wash- 
ington's mind and heart were full of reminiscence and 
foreboding. 

He had visited New York thirty-three years before, 
also in the month of April, in the full perfection of his 

30 early manhood, fresh from Braddock's bloody field, 
and wearing the only laurels of the battle, bearing the 
prophetic blessing of the venerable President Davies, 
of Princeton College, as " That heroic youth, Colonel 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 241 

Washington, whom I cannot but hope Providence has 
hitherto preserved in so signal a manner for some im- 
portant service to the country." It was a fair daugh- 
ter of our State whose smiles allured him here, and 
whose coy confession that her heart was another's re- 5 
corded his only failure, and saddened his departure. 
Twenty years passed, and he stood before the New 
York Congress, on this very spot, the unanimously 
chosen Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army, 
urging the people to more vigorous measures, and 10 
made painfully aware of the increased desperation of 
the struggle, from the aid to be given to the enemy by 
domestic sympathizers, when he knew that the same 
local military company which escorted him was to per- 
form the like service for the British Governor Tryon 15 
on his landing on the morrow. Returning for the de- 
fense of the city the next summer, he executed the 
retreat from Long Island, which secured from Freder- 
ick the Great the opinion that a great commander had 
appeared, and at Harlem Heights he won the first 20 
American victory of the Revolution, which gave that 
confidence to our raw recruits against the famous 
veterans of Europe which carried our army tri- 
umphantly through the war. Six years more of un- 
told sufferings, of freezing and starving camps, of 25 
marches over the snow by barefooted soldiers to heroic 
attack and splendid victory, of despair with an unpaid 
army, and of hope from the generous assistance of 
France, and peace had come and independence tri- 
umphed. As the last soldier of the invading enemy 30 
embarks, Washington at the head of the patriot host 
enters the city, receives the welcome and gratitude of 
its people, and in the tavern which faces us across the 



242 CHA UNCE Y M. DEPE W. 

way, in silence more eloquent than speech, and with 
tears which choke the words, he bids farewell forever 
to his companions in arms. Such were the crowding 
memories of the past suggested to Washington in 
5 1789 by his approach to New York. But the future 
had none of the splendor of precedent and brilliance 
of promise which have since attended the inaguration 
of our presidents. An untried scheme, adopted mainly 
because its administration was to be confided to him, 

10 was to be put in practice. He knew that he was to 
be met at every step of constitutional progress by fac- 
tions temporarily hushed into unanimity by the ter- 
rific force of the tidal wave which was bearing him to 
the President's seat, but fiercely hostile upon questions 

15 affecting every power of nationality and the existence 
of the Federal Government. 

Washington was never dramatic, but on great oc- 
casions he not only rose to the full ideal of the event, 
he became himself the event. One hundred years ago 

20 to-day the procession of foreign ambassadors, of states- 
men and generals, of civic societies and military com- 
panies, which escorted him, marched from Franklin 
Square to Pearl Street, through Pearl to Broad to this 
spot; but the people saw only Washington. As he 

25 stood upon the steps of the old Government Building 
here, the thought must have occurred to him that it 
was a cradle of liberty, and as such giving a bright 
omen for the future. 

In these halls, in 1735, in the trial of John Zenger, 

30 had been established, for the first time in its history, 
the liberty of the press. Here the New York Assem- 
bly, in 1764, made the protest against the Stamp Act, 
and proposed the General Conference, which was the 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 243 

beginning of the united colonial action. In this old 
State House, in 1765, the Stamp Act Congress — the 
first and the father of American congresses — assembled 
and presented to the English government that vigor- 
ous protest which caused the repeal of the Act, and 5 
checked the first step toward the usurpation which lost 
the American Colonies to the British Empire. Within 
these walls the Congress of the Confederation had 
commissioned its ambassadors abroad, and in ineffec- 
tual efforts at government had created the necessity 10 
for the concentration of Federal authority, now to be 
consummated. 

The first Congress of the United States, gathered in 
this ancient temple of liberty, greeted Washington and 
accompanied him to the balcony. The famous men 15 
visible about him were Chancellor Livingston, Vice- 
President John Adams, Alexander Hamilton, Gov- 
ernor Clinton, Roger Sherman, Richard Henry Lee, 
General Knox, and Baron Steuben. But we believe 
that among the invisible host above him at this 20 
supreme moment of the culmination in permanent 
triumph of the thousands of years of struggle for 
self-government, were the spirits of soldiers of the 
Revolution who had died that their countrymen might 
enjoy this blessed day, and with them were the Barons 25 
of Runnymede, and William the Silent, and Sidney, 
and Russell, and Cromwell, and Hampden, and the 
heroes and martyrs of liberty of every race and age. 

As he came forward, the multitude in the streets, in 
the windows, and on the roofs sent up such a raptur- 30 
ous shout that Washington sat down, overcome with 
emotion. As he slowly rose, and his tall and majestic 
form again appeared, the people, deeply affected, in 



244 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

awed silence viewed the scene. The chancellor 
solemnly read to him the oath of office, and Washing- 
ton, repeating, said: " I do solemnly swear that I will 
faithfully execute the office of President of the United 
5 States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, 
protect, and defend the Constitution of the United 
States." Then he reverently bent low and kissed the 
Bible, uttering with profound emotion, " So help me, 
God." The chancellor waved his robes and shouted: 

10 " It is done. Long live George Washington, Presi- 
dent of the United States!" " Long live George 
Washington, our first President! " was the answering 
cheer of the people, and from the belfries rang the 
bells, and from forts and ships thundered the cannon, 

15 echoing and repeating the cry with responding acclaim 
all over the land: " Long live George Washington, 
President of the United States! " 

The simple and imposing ceremony over, the in- 
augural read, the blessing of God prayerfully peti- 

20 tioned in old St. Paul's, the festivities passed: and 
Washington stood alone. No one else could take the 
helm of State, and enthusiast and doubter alike trusted 
only him. The teachings and habits of the past had 
educated the people to faith in the independence of 

25 their States ; and for the supreme authority of the new 
Government there stood, against the precedent of a 
century and the passions of the hour, little beside the 
arguments of Hamilton, Madison, and Jay in The 
Federalist, and the judgment of Washington. 

30 With the first attempt to exercise national power 
began the duel to the death between State Sov- 
ereignty, claiming the right to nullify federal laws or 
secede from the Union, and the power of the Repub- 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 245 

lie to command the resources of the country, to en- 
force its authority, and protect its life. It was the 
beginning of the sixty-years' war for the Constitution 
and the nation. It seared consciences, degraded poli- 
tics, destroyed parties, ruined statesmen, and retarded 5 
the advance and development of the country; it sacri- 
ficed hundreds of thousands of precious lives, and 
squandered thousands of millions of money; it deso- 
lated the fairest portion of the land and carried mourn- 
ing into every home North and South ; but it ended at 10 
Appomattox in the absolute triumph of the Republic. 
Posterity owes to Washington's Administration the 
policy and measures, the force and direction which 
made possible this glorious result. In giving the 
organization of the Department of State and Foreign 15 
Relations to Jefferson, the Treasury to Hamilton, and 
the Supreme Court to Jay, he selected for his Cabinet 
and called to his assistance the ablest and most emi- 
nent men of his time. Hamilton's marvelous versa- 
tility and genius designed the armory and the weapons 20 
for the promotion of national power and greatness, 
but Washington's steady support carried them 
through. Parties crystallized, and party passions were 
intense, debates were intemperate, and the Union 
openly threatened and secretly plotted against, as the 25 
firm pressure of this mighty personality funded the 
debt and established credit; assumed the State debts 
incurred in the War of the Revolution, and superseded 
the local by the national obligation; imposed duties 
upon imports and excise upon spirits, and created 30 
revenue and resources; organized a National Banking 
system for public needs and private business, and 
called out an army to put down by force of arms re- 



246 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

sistance to the Federal laws imposing unpopular taxes. 
Upon the plan marked out by the Constitution this 
great architect, with unfailing faith and unfaltering 
courage, builded the Republic. He gave to the Gov- 
5 ernment the principles of action and sources of power 
which carried it successfully through the wars with 
Great Britain in 1812 and Mexico in 1848, which en- 
abled Jackson to defeat nullification, and recruited and 
equipped millions of men for Lincoln, and justified and 

10 sustained his Proclamation of Emancipation. 

The French Revolution was the bloody reality of 
France and the nightmare of the civilized world. The 
tyranny of centuries culminated in frightful reprisals 
and reckless revenges. As parties rose to power and 

15 passed to the guillotine, the frenzy of the revolt against 
all authority reached every country and captured the 
imaginations and enthusiasm of millions in every land, 
who believed they saw that the madness of anarchy, 
the overturning of all institutions, the confiscation and 

20 distribution of property, would end in a millennium 
for the masses and the universal brotherhood of man. 
Enthusiasm for France, our late ally, and the terrible 
commercial and industrial distress occasioned by the 
failure of the Government under the Articles of Con- 

25 federation, aroused an almost unanimous cry for the 
young Republic, not yet sure of its existence, to 
plunge into the vortex. The ablest and purest states- 
men of the time bent to the storm, but Washington 
was unmoved. He stood like the rock-ribbed coast 

30 of a continent between the surging billows of fanati- 
cism and the child of his love. Order is Heaven's first 
law, and the mind of Washington was order. The Rev- 
olution defied God and derided the law. Washing- 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 247 

ton devoutly reverenced the Deity, and believed lib- 
erty impossible without law. He spoke to the sober 
judgment of the nation and made clear the danger. 
He saved the ancient Government from ruin, and ex- 
pelled the French Minister who had appealed from 5 
him to the people. The whole land, seeing safety only 
in his continuance in office, joined Jefferson in urging 
him to accept a second term. " North and South," 
pleaded the Secretary, " will hang together while they 
have you to hang to." 10 

No man ever stood for so much to his country and 
to mankind as George Washington. Hamilton, Jef- 
ferson, and Adams, Madison, and Jay, each repre- 
sented some of the elements which formed the Union: 
Washington embodied them all. They fell at times 15 
under popular disapproval, were burned in effigy, were 
stoned; but he with unerring judgment was always 
the leader of the people. Milton said of Cromwell, 
that " war made him great, peace greater." The su- 
periority of Washington's character and genius was 20 
more conspicuous in the formation of our Government 
and in putting it on indestructible foundations, than 
in leading armies to victory and conquering the in- 
dependence of his country. " The Union in any 
event " is the central thought of his Farewell Address ; 25 
and all the years of his grand life were devoted to its 
formation and preservation. He fought as a youth 
with Braddock and in the capture of Fort Du Quesne 
for the protection of the whole country. As Com- 
mander-in-chief of the Continental Army, his com- 30 
mission was from the Congress of the United Colo- 
nies. He inspired the movement for the Republic, 
was the President and dominant spirit of the Conven- 



248 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

tion which framed its Constitution, and its President 
for eight years, and guided its course until satisfied 
that moving safely along the broad highway of time, 
it would be surely ascending toward the first place 
5 among the nations of the world, the asylum of the 
oppressed, the home of the free. 

Do his countrymen exaggerate his virtues? Listen 
to Guizot, the historian of civilization : " Washington 
did the two greatest things which in politics it is per- 

10 mitted to man to attempt. He maintained by peace 
the independence of his country which he conquered 
by war. He founded a free government in the name 
of the principles of order and by re-establishing their 
sway." Hear Lord Erskine, the most famous of Eng- 

15 lish advocates: " You are the only being for whom I 
have an awful reverence." Remember the tribute of 
Charles James Fox, the greatest parliamentary orator 
who ever swayed the British House of Commons: 
" Illustrious man, before whom all borrowed greatness 

20 sinks into insignificance." Contemplate the character 
of Lord Brougham, pre-eminent for two generations in 
every department of human activity and thought, and 
then impress upon the memories of your children his 
deliberate judgment: "Until time shall be no more, 

25 will a test of the progress which our race has made in 
wisdom and virtue be derived from the veneration paid 
to the immortal name of Washington." 

Chatham, who, with Clive, conquered an empire in 
the East, died broken-hearted at the loss of the empire 

30 in the West, by follies which even his power and elo- 
quence could not prevent. Pitt saw the vast creations 
of his diplomacy shattered at Austerlitz, and fell mur- 
muring: " My country! how I leave my country!" 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 249 

Napoleon caused a noble tribute to Washington to be 
read at the head of his armies; but, unable to rise to 
Washington's greatness, witnessed the vast structure 
erected by conquest and cemented by blood, to minis- 
ter to his own ambition and pride, crumble into frag- 5 
ments, and an exile and a prisoner he breathed his 
last, babbling of battle-fields and carnage. Wash- 
ington, with his finger upon his pulse, felt the presence 
of death, and calmly reviewing the past and fore- 
casting the future, answered to the summons of the 10 
grim messenger, " It is well "; and as his mighty soul 
ascended to God, the land was deluged with tears and 
the world united in his eulogy. Blot out from the 
page of history the names of all the great actors of his 
time in the drama of nations, and preserve the name 15 
of Washington, and still the century would be 
renowned. 

We stand to-day upon the dividing line between the 
first and second century of constitutional government. 
There are no clouds overhead, and no convulsions 20 
under our feet. We reverently return thanks to Al- 
mighty God for the past, and with confident and hope- 
ful promise march upon sure ground toward the 
future. The simple facts of these hundred years para- 
lyze the imagination, and we contemplate the vast 25 
accumulations of the century with awe and pride. 
Our population has grown from four to sixty-five 
millions. Its center moving westward five hundred 
miles since 1789, is eloquent with the founding of 
cities and the birth of States. New settlements, clear- 30 
ing the forests and subduing the prairies, and adding 
four millions to the few thousands of farms which were 
the support of Washington's Republic, create one of 



250 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

the great granaries of the world and open exhaustless 
reservoirs of national wealth. 

The infant industries, which the first Act of our 
Administration sought to encourage, now give remu- 

5 nerative employment to more people than inhabited 
the Republic at the beginning of Washington's Presi- 
dency. The grand total of their annual output of 
seven thousand millions of dollars in value places the 
United States first among the manufacturing coun- 

10 tries of the earth. One-half of all the railroads, and 
one-quarter of all the telegraph lines of the world 
within our borders, testify to the volume, variety, and 
value of an internal commerce which makes these 
States, if need be, independent and self-supporting. 

15 These hundred years of development under favorable 
political conditions have brought the sum of our na- 
tional wealth to a figure which is past the results of a 
thousand years for the mother-land, herself otherwise 
the richest of modern empires. 

20 During this generation a civil war of unequaled mag- 
nitude caused the expenditure and loss of eight thou- 
sand millions of dollars, and killed six hundred thou- 
sand and permanently disabled over a million young 
men; and yet the impetuous progress of the North and 

25 the marvelous industrial development of the new and 
free South have obliterated the evidences of destruc- 
tion and made the war a memory, and have stimulated 
production until our annual surplus nearly equals that 
of England, France, and Germany combined. The 

30 teeming millions of Asia till the patient soil and work 
the shuttle and loom as their fathers have done for 
ages; modern Europe has felt the influence and re- 
ceived the benefit of the incalculable multiplication of 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 251 

force by inventive genius since the Napoleonic wars; 
and yet, only two hundred and sixty-nine years after 
the little band of Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, 
our people, numbering less than one-fifteenth of the 
inhabitants of the globe, do one-third of its mining, 5 
one-fourth of its manufacturing, one-fifth of its agri- 
culture, and own one-sixth of its wealth. 

This realism of material prosperity, surpassing the 
wildest creation of the romancers who have astonished 
and delighted mankind, would be full of danger for the 10 
present and menace for the future, if the virtue, intelli- 
gence, and independence of the people were not equal 
to the wise regulation of its uses and the stern pre- 
vention of its abuses. But following the growth and 
power of the great factors, whose aggregation of 15 
capital made possible the tremendous pace of the settle- 
ment of our national domain, the building of our great 
cities and the opening of the lines of communication 
which have unified our country and created our re- 
sources, have come national and state legislation and 20 
supervision. Twenty millions — a vast majority of our 
people of intelligent age — acknowledging the au- 
thority of their several churches, twelve millions of 
children in the common schools, three hundred and 
forty-five universities and colleges for the higher edu- 25 
cation of men and two hundred for women, four hun- 
dred and fifty institutions of learning for science, law, 
medicine, and theology, are the despair of the scoffer 
and the demagogue, and the firm support of civiliza- 
tion and liberty. 30 

Steam and electricity have not only changed the 
commerce, they have also revolutionized the govern- 
ments of the world. They have given to the press it§ 



252 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

powers, and brought all races and nationalities into 
touch and sympathy. They have tested and are try- 
ing the strength of all systems to stand the strain and 
conform to the conditions which follow the germinat- 
5 ing influences of American democracy. At the time 
of the inauguration of Washington, seven royal fami- 
lies ruled as many kingdoms in Italy, but six of them 
have seen their thrones overturned and their coun- 
tries disappear from the map of Europe. Most of the 

10 kings, princes, dukes, and margraves of Germany, who 
reigned despotically and sold their soldiers for for- 
eign service, have passed into history, and their heirs 
have neither prerogatives nor domain. Spain has 
gone through many violent changes, and the perma- 

15 nency of her present government seems to depend upon 
the feeble life of an infant prince. France, our an- 
cient friend, with repeated and bloody revolutions, has 
tried the government of Bourbon and Convention, of 
Directory and Consulate, of Empire and Citizen King, 

20 of hereditary Sovereign and Republic, of Empire, and 
again Republic. The Hapsburg and the Hohenzol- 
lern, after convulsions which have rocked the founda- 
tions of their thrones, have been compelled to concede 
constitutions for their people, and to divide with them 

25 the arbitrary power wielded so autocratically and bril- 
liantly by Maria Theresa and Frederick the Great. 
The royal will of George III. could crowd the Ameri- 
can colonies into rebellion, and wage war upon them 
until they were lost to his kingdom ; but the authority 

30 of the Crown has devolved upon ministers who hold 
office subject to the approval of the representatives of 
the people, and the equal powers of the House of 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 253 

Lords have become vested in the Commons, leaving 
to the Peers only the shadow of their ancient privi- 
leges. But to-day the American people, after all the 
dazzling developments of the century, are still happily 
living under the Government of Washington. The 5 
Constitution during all that period has been amended 
only upon the lines laid down in the original instru- 
ment, and in conformity with the recorded opinions 
of the Fathers. The first great addition was the incor- 
poration of a Bill of Rights, and the last the embed- 10 
ding into the Constitution of the immortal principle 
of the Declaration of Independence — of the equal- 
ity of all men before the law. No crisis has been too 
perilous for its powers, no evolution too rapid for its 
adaptation, and no expansion beyond its easy grasp 15 
and administration. It has assimilated diverse na- 
tionalities with warring traditions, customs, condi- 
tions, and languages, imbued them with its spirit, and 
won their passionate loyalty and love. 

The flower of the youth of the nations of Conti- 20 
nental Europe are conscripted from productive indus- 
tries and drilling in camps. Vast armies stand in 
battle array along the frontiers, and a Kaiser's whim or 
a Minister's mistake may precipitate the most destruc- 
tive war of modern times. 25 

Both monarchical and republican governments are 
seeking safety in the repression and suppression of 
opposition and criticism. The volcanic forces of 
democratic aspiration and socialistic revolt are 
rapidly increasing and threaten peace and security. 30 
We turn from these gathering storms to the British 
Isles and find their people in the throes of a political 



254 CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

crisis involving the form and substance of their Gov- 
ernment, and their statesmen far from confident that 
the enfranchised and unprepared masses will wisely 
use their power. 
5 But for us no army exhausts our resources nor con- 
sumes our youth. Our navy must needs increase in 
order that the protecting flag may follow the expand- 
ing commerce which is to successfully compete in all 
the markets of the world. The sun of our destiny is 

io still rising, and its rays illumine vast territories as yet 
unoccupied and undeveloped, and which are to be the 
happy homes of millions of people. The questions 
which affect the powers of government and the expan- 
sion or limitation of the authority of the Federal Con- 

15 stitution are so completely settled, and so unanimously 
approved, that our political divisions produce only the 
healthy antagonism of parties which is necessary for 
the preservation of liberty. Our institutions furnish 
the full equipment of shield and spear for the battles 

20 of freedom ; and absolute protection against every dan- 
ger which threatens the welfare of the people will 
always be found in the intelligence which appreciates 
their value, and the courage and morality with which 
their powers are exercised. The spirit of Washington 

25 fills the executive office. Presidents may not rise to 
the full measure of his greatness, but they must not 
fall below his standard of public duty and obligation. 
His life and character, conscientiously studied and 
thoroughly understood by coming generations, will be 

30 for them a liberal education for private life and public 
station, for citizenship and patriotism, for love and de- 
votion to Union and liberty. With their inspiring past 



WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION. 255 

and splendid present, the people of these United 
States, heirs of a hundred years marvelously rich in 
all which adds to the glory and greatness of a nation, 
with an abiding trust in the stability and elasticity of 
their Constitution, and an abounding faith in them- 
selves, hail the coming century with hope and joy. 



THE PLATFORM ORATION. 

GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

Born 1824. Died 18Q2. 
THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEN. 

[The subject with which this oration deals, the place of the edu- 
cated man in public affairs, was a particularly congenial one to Mr. 
Curtis, as it has been to other men who have thought deeply over the 
problems of our democracy. In 1856, in an address which Mr. Curtis 
delivered before the literary societies of Wesleyan University, his 
first platform oration of any note, he chose for his topic " The duty 
of the American Scholar to Politics and the Times." A year later, in 
1857, when he spoke to the graduating class of Union College on 
" Patriotism " he took as his theme this question : " How can you, 
as educated young Americans, best serve the great cause of human 
development to which all nationalities are subservient?" Again, 
twenty years after this, in another address before the students of 
Union College, he had for his subject " The Public Duty of Educated 
men." The present oration, therefore, which was delivered before 
the alumni of Brown University, at Providence, June 20, 1882, is 
not only one of the most eloquent Mr. Curtis ever delivered, but 
it represents a theme to which he gave much thought throughout his 
life. 

The oration is reprinted, by permission, from the Orations and 
Addresses of George William Curtis : Copyright, 1893, by Messrs. 
Harper and Brothers.] 

There is a modern English picture which the genius 

of Hawthorne might have inspired. The painter calls 

it, " How they met themselves." A man and a woman, 

haggard and weary, wandering lost in a somber wood, 

5 suddenly meet the shadowy figures of a youth and a 

256 



THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEN. 257 

maid. Some mysterious fascination fixes the gaze 
and stills the hearts of the wanderers, and their amaze- 
ment deepens into awe as they gradually recognize 
themselves as once they were ; the soft bloom of youth 
upon their rounded cheeks, the dewy light of hope in 5 
their trusting eyes, exulting confidence in their spring- 
ing step, themselves blithe and radiant with the glory 
of the dawn. To-day, and here, we meet ourselves. 
Not to these familiar scenes alone — yonder col- 
lege-green with its reverend traditions ; the hal- io 
cyon cove of the Seekonk, upon which the 
memory of Roger Williams broods like a bird 
of calm; the historic bay, beating forever with 
the muffled oars of Barton and of Abraham 
Whipple; here, the humming city of the living; 15 
there, the peaceful city of the dead ; — not to these only 
or chiefly do we return, but to ourselves as we once 
were. It is not the smiling freshmen of the year, it is 
your own beardless and unwrinkled faces, that are 
looking from the windows of University Hall and of 20 
Hope College. Under the trees upon the hill it is 
yourselves whom you see walking, full of hopes and 
dreams, glowing with conscious power, and " nourish- 
ing a youth sublime " ; and in this familiar temple, 
which surely has never echoed with eloquence so fer- 25 
vid and inspiring as that of your commencement ora- 
tions, it is not yonder youths in the galleries who, as 
they fondly believe, are whispering to yonder maids; 
it is your younger selves who, in the days that are no 
more, are murmuring to the fairest mothers and grand- 30 
mothers of those maids. 

Happy the worn and weary man and woman in the 
picture could they have felt their older eyes still glis- 



258 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

tening with that earlier light, and their hearts yet beat- 
ing with undiminished sympathy and aspiration. 
Happy we, brethren, whatever may have been 
achieved, whatever left undone, if, returning to the 
5 home of our earlier years, we bring with us the illimit- 
able hope, the unchilled resolution, the inextinguish- 
able faith of youth. 

It was as scholars that you were here; it is to the 
feeling and life of scholars that you return. I mean 

10 the scholar not as a specialist or deeply proficient stu- 
dent, not like Darwin, a conqueror greater than Alex- 
ander, who extended the empire of human knowledge; 
nor like Emerson, whose serene wisdom, a planet in 
the cloudless heaven, lighted the path of his age to 

15 larger spiritual liberty; nor like Longfellow, sweet 
singer of our national spring-time, whose scholarship 
decorated his pure and limpid song as flowers are mir- 
rored in a placid stream — not as scholars like these, 
but as educated men, to whom the dignity and honor 

20 and renown of the educated class are precious, how- 
ever remote from study your lives may have been, you 
return to the annual festival of letters. " Neither 
years nor books," says Emerson, speaking of his own 
college days, " have yet availed to extirpate a preju- 

25 dice then rooted in me that a scholar is the favorite of 
heaven and earth, the excellency of his country, the 
happiest of men." 

But every educated man is aware of a profound 
popular distrust of the courage and sagacity of the 

30 educated class. Franklin and Lincoln are good 
enough for us, exclaims this jealous skepticism; as if 
Franklin and Lincoln did not laboriously repair by 
vigorous study the want of early opportunity. The 



THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEN. 259 

scholar appealing to experience is proudly told to close 
his books, for what has America to do with experi- 
ence? as if books were not the ever-burning lamps of 
accumulated wisdom. When Voltaire was insulted 
by the London mob, he turned at his door and com- 5 
plimented them upon the nobleness of their national 
character, their glorious constitution, and their love 
of liberty. The London mob did not feel the sar- 
casm. But when I hear that America may scorn ex- 
perience because she is a law to herself, I remember 10 
that a few years ago a foreign observer came to the 
city of Washington, and said: " I did not fully com- 
prehend your greatness until I saw your Congress. 
Then I felt that if you could stand that you could stand 
anything, and I understood the saying that God takes 15 
care of children, drunken men, and the United States." 
The scholar is denounced as a coward. Humanity 
falls among thieves, we are told, and the college Le- 
vite, the educated Pharisee, pass by on the other side. 
Slavery undermines the Republic, but the clergy in 20 
America are the educated class, and the Church makes 
itself the bulwark of slavery. Strong drink slays its 
tens of thousands, but the educated class leaves the 
gospel of temperance to be preached by the ignorant 
and the enthusiast, as the English Establishment left 25 
the preaching of regeneration to Methodist itinerants 
in fields and barns. Vast questions cast their shadows 
upon the future: the just relations of capital and labor; 
the distribution of land; the towering power of corpo- 
rate wealth; reform in administrative methods; but the 30 
educated class, says the critic, instead of advancing to 
deal with them promptly, wisely, and courageously, 
and settling them as morning dissipates the night, 



260 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

without a shock, leaves them to be kindled to fury by 
demagogues, lifts a panic cry of communism, and 
sinks paralyzed with terror. It is the old accusation. 
Erasmus was the great pioneer of modern scholarship. 
5 But in the fierce contest of the Reformation Luther 
denounced him as a time-server and a coward. With 
the same feeling, Theodore Parker, the spiritual child 
of Luther, asked of Goethe, " Tell me, what did he ever 
do for the cause of man? " and when nothing remained 

10 for his country but the dread alternative of slavery or 
civil war, Parker exclaimed sadly of the class to which 
he belonged, " If our educated men had done their 
duty, we should not now be in the ghastly condition 
we bewail." 

15 Gentlemen, we belong to the accused class. Its 
honor and dignity are very precious to us. Is this 
humiliating arraignment true? Does the educated 
class of America especially deserve this condemnation 
of political recreancy and moral cowardice? Faithless 

20 scholars, laggard colleges, bigoted pulpits, there may 
be; signal instances you may find of feebleness and 
pusillanimity. This has been always true. Leigh 
Hunt said, " I thought that my Horace and Demos- 
thenes gave me a right to sit at table with any man, 

25 and I think so still." But when De Quincey met Dr. 
Parr, who knew Horace and Demosthenes better than 
any man of his time, he described him as a lisping 
scandal-monger, retailing gossip fit only for washer- 
women to hear. During the earthquake of the great 

30 civil war in England, Sir Thomas Browne sat tran- 
quilly in scholarly seclusion, polishing the conceits of 
the " Urn Burial," and modulating the long-drawn 
music of the " Religio Medici." Looking at Browne 



THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEN. 261 

and Parr, at Erasmus and Goethe, is it strange that 
scholars are impatiently derided as useless pedants or 
literary voluptuaries, and that the whole educated class 
is denounced as feeble and impracticable? 

But remember what Coleridge said to Washington 5 
Alston, " Never judge a work of art by its defects." 
The proper comment to make upon recreant scholars 
is that of Brummell's valet upon the tumbled cambric 
in his hands, " These are our failures." Luther, impa- 
tient of the milder spirit of Erasmus and Colet and 10 
Sir Thomas More, might well have called them our 
failures, because he was of their class, and while they 
counseled moderation, his fiery and impetuous soul 
sought to seize triple-crowned error and drag it 
from its throne. But Luther was no less a scholar, 15 
and stands equally with them for the scholarly class 
and the heroism of educated men. Even Erasmus 
said of him with friendly wit, " He has hit the Pope 
on the crown and the monks on the belly." If the 
cowled scholars of the Church rejected him, and uni- 20 
versities under their control renounced and con- 
demned him, yet Luther is justified in saying, as he 
sweeps his hand across them and speaks for himself 
and for the scholars who stood with him, " These are 
not our representatives ; these are our failures." 25 

So on our side of the sea the educated body of Puri- 
tan Massachusetts Bay, the clergy and the magistrates, 
drove Roger Williams from their borders — Roger 
Williams, also a scholar and a clergyman, and, with 
John Milton, the bright consummate flower of Puri- 30 
tanism. But shall not he stand for the scholar rather 
than Cotton Mather, torturing terrified old women to 
death as witches! I appeal from Philip drunk to 



262 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

Philip sober — from the scholarship that silenced Mrs. 
Hutchinson and hung Mary Dyer and pressed Giles 
Corey to death, to the scholarship that argued with 
George Fox and founded a political commonwealth 
5 upon soul-liberty. A year ago I sat with my brethren 
of the Phi Beta Kappa at Cambridge, and seemed to 
catch echoes of Edmund Burke's resounding im- 
peachment of Warren Hastings in the sparkling de- 
nunciation of the timidity of American scholarship. 

io Under the spell of Burke's burning words Hastings 
half believed himself to be the villain he heard 
described. But the scholarly audience of the schol- 
arly orator * of the Phi Beta Kappa, with an exquisite 
sense of relief, felt every count of his stinging indict- 

15 ment recoil upon himself. He was the glowing refu- 
tation of his own argument. Gentleman, scholar, 
orator — his is the courage that never quailed; his the 
white plume of Navarre that flashed meteor-like in 
the front of battle; his the Amphion music of an elo- 

20 quence that leveled the more than Theban walls of 
American slavery. At once judge, culprit, and ac- 
cuser, in the noble record of his own life he and his 
class are triumphantly acquitted. 

Must we count such illustrations as exceptions? 

25 But how can we do so when we see that the Reforma- 
tion, the mental and moral new birth of Christendom, 
was the work of the educated class? Follow the 
movement of liberty in detail, and still the story is the 
same. The great political contest in England, in- 

30 spired by the Reformation, was directed by University 
men. John Pym in the Commons, John Hampden in 
the field, John Milton in the Cabinet — three Johns, 
* Wendell Phillips. 



THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEN. 263 

and all of them well-beloved disciples of liberty — with 
the grim Oliver himself, purging England of royal 
despotism, and avenging the slaughtered saints on 
Alpine mountains cold, were all of them children of 
Oxford and Cambridge. In the next century, like a 5 
dawn lurid but bright, the French Revolution broke 
upon the world. But the only hope of a wise direc- 
tion of the elemental forces that upheaved France van- 
ished when the educated leadership lost control, and 
Marat became the genius and the type of the Revolu- 10 
tion. Ireland also bears witness. As its apostle and 
tutelary saint was a scholar, so its long despair of 
justice has found its voice and its hand among edu- 
cated Irishmen. Swift and Molyneux, and Flood and 
Grattan and O'Connell, Duffy, and the young en- 15 
thusiasts around Thomas Davis who sang of an Erin 
that never was and dreamed of an Ireland that cannot 
be, were men of the colleges and the schools, whose 
long persistence of tongue and pen fostered the life 
of their country and gained for her all that she has 20 
won. For modern Italy, let Silvio Pellico and Foresti 
and Maroncelli answer. It was Italian education 
which Austria sought to smother, and it was not less 
Cavour than Garibaldi who gave constitutional liberty 
to Italy. When Germany sank at Jena under the heel 25 
of Napoleon, and Stein — whom Napoleon hated, but 
could not appall — asked if national life survived, the 
answer rang from the universities, and from them 
modern Germany came forth. With prophetic im- 
pulse Theodore Koerner called his poems " The Lyre 30 
and the Sword," for, like the love which changed the 
sea-nymph into the harp, the fervent patriotism of 
the educated youth of Germany turned the poet's lyre 



264 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

into the soldier's victorious sword. In the splendor 
of our American day let us remember and honor our 
brethren, first in every council, dead upon every field 
of freedom from the Volga to the Rhine, from John 

5 o' Groat's to the Adriatic, who have steadily drawn 
Europe from out the night of despotism, and have 
vindicated for the educated class the leadership of 
modern civilization. 

Here in America, where as yet there are no ruins 

10 save those of ancient wrongs, undoubtedly New Eng- 
land has inspired and molded our national life. But 
if New England has led the Union, what has led New 
England? Her scholarly class. Her educated men. 
And our Roger Williams gave the key-note. " He 

15 has broached and divulged new and dangerous opin- 
ions against the authority of magistrates," said Massa- 
chusetts as she banished him. A century later his 
dangerous opinions had captured Massachusetts. 
Young Sam Adams, taking his Master's degree at 

20 Cambridge, argued that it was lawful to resist the 
supreme magistrate if the State could not otherwise 
be preserved. He was a college stripling. But seven 
years afterward, in 1750, the chief pulpit orator in 
New England, Jonathan Mayhew, preached in Bos- 

25 ton the famous sermon which Thornton called the 
morning gun of the Revolution, applying to the politi- 
cal situation the principles of Roger Williams. The 
New England pulpit echoed and re-echoed that morn- 
ing gun, arousing the country, and twenty-five years 

30 later its warning broke into the rattle of musketry at 
Lexington and Concord and the glorious thunder of 
Bunker Hill. 

It was a son of Harvard, James Otis, who proposed 



THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEN. 265 

the assembly of an American congress without asking 
the king's leave. It was a son of Yale, John Morin 
Scott, who declared that if taxation without repre- 
sentation were to be enforced, the colonies ought to 
separate from England. It was a group of New 5 
York scholars, John Jay and Scott and the Living- 
stones, which spoke for the colony in response to the 
Boston Port Bill and proposed the Continental Con- 
gress. It was a New England scholar in that Con- 
gress, whom Rufus Choate declared to be the 10 
distinctive and comprehensive orator of the Revolu- 
tion, John Adams, who, urging every argument, 
touching every stop of passion, pride, tenderness, in- 
terest, conscience, and lofty indignation, swept up his 
country as into a chariot of fire and soared to 15 
independence. 

I do not forget that Virginian tongue of flame, 
Patrick Henry, nor that patriotism of the field and 
fireside which recruited the Sons of Liberty. The 
inspiring statue of the Minute Man at Concord — and 20 
a nobler memorial figure does not stand upon our soil 
— commemorates the spirit that left the plow stand- 
ing in the furrow, that drew Nathaniel Greene from 
his anvil and Esek Hopkins from his farm; the spirit 
that long before had sent the poor parishioners of 25 
Scrooby to Holland, and filled the victorious ranks 
of the Commonwealth at Naseby and at Marston 
Moor. But in America as in England they were edu- 
cated men who in the pulpit, on the platform, and 
through the press, conducted the mighty preliminary 30 
argument of the Revolution, defended the ancient tra- 
ditions of English liberty against reactionary England, 
aroused the colonists to maintain the cause of human 



266 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

nature, and led them from the Gaspee and Bunker 
Hill across the plains of Saratoga, the snows of Valley 
Forge, the sands of Monmouth, the hills of Carolina, 
until at Yorktown once more the king surrendered to 
5 the people, and educated America had saved constitu- 
tional liberty. 

In the next brief and critical period, when through 
the travail of a half-anarchical confederation the inde- 
pendent States, always instinctively tending to union, 

io rose into a rural constitutional republic, the good 
genius of America was still the educated mind of the 
country. Of the fifty-five members of the Conven- 
tion, which Bancroft, changing the poet's line, calls 
" the goodliest fellowship of law-givers whereof this 

15 world holds record," thirty-three were college grad- 
uates, and the eight leaders of the great debate were all 
college men. The Convention adjourned, and while 
from out the strong hand of George Clinton, Hamil- 
ton, the son of Columbia, drew New York into the 

20 Union, that placid son of Princeton, James Madison, 
withstanding the fiery energy of Patrick Henry, 
placed Virginia by her side. Then Columbia and 
Princeton uniting in Hamilton, Jay, and Madison, in- 
terpreted the Constitution in that greatest of com- 

25 mentaries, which, as the dome crowns the Capitol, 
completed the majestic argument which long before 
the sons of Harvard had begun. Take away the 
scholarly class from the discussion that opened the 
Revolution, from the deliberations that guided it, 

30 from the debates of the Constitutional Convention that 
ended it — would the advance of America have been 
more triumphant? Would the guarantees of individ- 
ual liberty, of national union, of a common prosperity, 



THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEN. 267 

have been more surely established? The critics 
laughed at the pictured grapes as unnatural. But the 
painter was satisfied when the birds came and pecked 
at them. Daily the educated class is denounced as 
impracticable and visionary. But the Constitution of 5 
the United States is the work of American scholars. 

Doubtless the leaders expressed a sentiment which 
was shared by the men and women around them. But 
it was they who had formed and fostered that senti- 
ment. They were not the puppets of the crowd, light 10 
weathercocks which merely showed the shifting gusts 
of popular feeling. They did not follow what they 
could not resist, and make their voices the tardy echo 
of a thought they did not share. They were not 
dainty and feeble hermits because they were educated 15 
men. They were equal citizens with the rest; men of 
strong convictions and persuasive speech, who showed 
their brethren what they ought to think and do. That 
is the secret of leadership. It is not servility to the 
mob, it is not giving vehement voice to popular 20 
frenzy, that makes a leader. That makes a dema- 
gogue; Cleon, not Pericles; Catiline, not Cicero. 
Leadership is the power of kindling a sympathy and 
trust which will eagerly follow. It is the genius that 
molds the lips of the stony Memnon to 1 such sensitive 25 
life that the first sunbeam of opportunity strikes them 
into music. In a great crisis it is thinking so as to 
make others think, feeling so as to make others feel, 
which tips the orator's tongue with fire that lights as 
well as burns. So when Lord Chatham stood at the 30 
head of England organizing her victories by land and 
sea, and told in Parliament their splendid story, his 
glowing form was Britain's self, and the roar of British 



268 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

guns and the proud acclamation of British hearts all 
around the globe flashed and thundered in his elo- 
quence. " This is a glorious morning," said the 
scholar Samuel Adams, with a price set on his head, 
5 as he heard the guns at Lexington. " Decus et de- 
corum est," said the young scholar Joseph Warren 
gayly, as he passed to his death on Bunker Hill. 
They spoke for the lofty enthusiasm of patriotism 
which they had kindled. It was not a mob, an igno- 

10 rant multitude swayed by a mysterious impulse; it 
was a body of educated men, wise and heroic because 
they were educated, who lifted this country to inde- 
pendence and laid deep and strong the foundations of 
the Republic. 

15 Is this less true of the maintenance and develop- 
ment of the government? Thirty years ago, walking 
on the Cliff at Newport with Mr. Bancroft, I asked 
him to what point he proposed to continue his history. 
He answered: " If I were an artist painting a picture 

20 of this ocean, my work would stop at the horizon. 
I can see no further. My history will end with the 
adoption of the Constitution. All beyond that is ex- 
periment." This was long ago. But the Republic 
is an experiment no longer. It has been strained to 

25 the utmost along the very vital fiber of its frame, and 
it has emerged from the ordeal recreated. Happy 
venerable historian, who has survived both to witness 
the triumph of the experiment, and to complete his 
stately story to the very point which he contemplated 

30 thirty years ago ! He has reached what was then the 
horizon, and may a gracious Providence permit him 
yet to depict the new and further and radiant prospect 
which he and all his countrymen behold! 



THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEAT. 269 

In achieving this great result has educated America 
been sluggish or skeptical or cowardly? The Consti- 
tution was but ten years old when the author of the 
Declaration of Independence, speaking with great 
authority and for a great party, announced that the 5 
Constitution was a compact of which every State must 
judge for itself both the fact of violation and the mode 
of redress. Jefferson sowed dragon's teeth in the 
fresh soil of the young Union. He died, but the 
armed men appeared. The whole course of our poli- 10 
tics for nearly a century was essentially revolutionary. 
Beneath all specific measures and party policies lay 
the supreme question of the nature of the government 
which Jefferson had raised. Is the Union a league 
or a nation? Are we built upon the solid earth or 15 
unstably encamped, like Sindbad's company, upon the 
back of a sea-monster which may dive at any moment? 
Until this doubt was settled there could be no peace. 
Yet the question lay in our politics only like the far 
black cloud along the horizon, flashing and muttering 20 
scarce heard thunders until the slavery agitation be- 
gan. That was a debate which devoured every other, 
until the slave-power, foiled in the hope of continental 
empire, pleaded Jefferson's theory of the Constitution 
as an argument for national dissolution. This was 25 
the third great crisis of the country, and in the 
tremendous contention, as in the war that fol- 
lowed, was the American scholar recreant and 
dumb? 

I do not ask, for it is not necessary, whether in the 30 
ranks of the powerful host that resisted agitation there 
were not scholars and educated men. I do not ask 
whether the educated or any other class alone main- 



270 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

tained the fight, nor whether there were not unquail- 
ing leaders who were not educated men, nor whether 
all were first, or all approved the same methods, or all 
were equally wise or equally zealous. Of course, I 

5 make no exclusive claim. I do not now speak of 
men like Garrison, whose name is that of a great 
patriot and a great human benefactor, and whose 
sturdy leadership was that of an old Hebrew prophet. 
But was the great battle fought and won while we 

10 and our guild stood passive and hostile by? 

The slavery agitation began with the moral appeal, 
and as in the dawn of the Revolution educated Amer- 
ica spoke in the bugle note of James Otis, so in the 
moral onset of the antislavery agitation rings out the 

15 clear voice of a son of Otis' college, himself the Otis 
of the later contest, Wendell Phillips. By his side, in 
the stormy dawn of the movement, stands a grandson 
of Quincy of the Revolution, and among the earliest 
antislavery leaders is more than a proportionate part 

20 of liberally educated men. In Congress the com- 
manding voice for freedom was that of the most 
learned, experienced, and courageous of American 
statesmen, the voice of a scholar and an old college 
professor, John Quincy Adams. Whittier's burning 

25 words scattered the sacred fire, Longfellow and Low- 
ell mingled their songs with his, and Emerson gave 
to the cause the loftiest scholarly heart in the Union. 
And while Parker's and Beecher's pulpits echoed 
Jonathan Mayhew's morning gun and fired words like 

30 cannon-balls, in the highest pulpit of America, fore- 
most among the champions of liberty stood the slight 
and radiant figure of the scholarly son of Rhode 
Island, upon whom more than upon any of her chil- 



THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED ME IV. 271 

dren the mantle of Roger Williams had worthily fallen, 
William Ellery Charming. 

When the national debate was angriest, it was the 
scholar of the Senate of the United States who held 
highest in his undaunted hands the flag of humanity 5 
and his country. While others bowed and bent and 
broke around him, the form of Charles Sumner tow- 
ered erect. Commerce and trade, the mob of the 
clubs and of the street, hissed and sneered at him as 
a pedantic dreamer and fanatic. No kind of insult 10 
and defiance was spared. But the unbending scholar 
revealed to the haughty foe an antagonist as proud 
and resolute as itself. He supplied what the hour de- 
manded, a sublime faith in liberty, the uncompromis- 
ing spirit which interpreted the Constitution and the 15 
statutes for freedom and not for slavery. The fiery 
agitation became bloody battle. Still he strode on 
before. " I am only six weeks behind you," said 
Abraham Lincoln, the Western frontiersman, to the 
New England scholar ; and along the path that the 20 
scholar blazed in the wild wilderness of civil war, the 
path of emancipation, and the constitutional equality 
of all citizens, his country followed fast to union, peace, 
and prosperity. The public service of this scholar 
was not less than that of any of his predecessors or 25 
any of his contemporaries. Criticise him as you will, 
mark every shadow you can find, 

" Though round his base the rolling clouds are spread, 
Eternal sunshine settles on his head." 

It would indeed be a sorrowful confession for this 30 
day and this assembly, to own that experience proves 
the air of the college to be suffocating to generous 



272 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

thought and heroic action. Here it would be espe- 
cially unjust, for what son of this college does not 
proudly remember that when, in the Revolution, 
Rhode Island was the seat of war, the college 
5 boys left the recitation-room for the field, and the 
college became a soldiers' barrack and hospital? And 
what son of any college in the land, what educated 
American, does not recall with grateful pride that 
legion of college youth in our own day — " Integer 

10 vitse scelerisque purus " — who were not cowards or 
sybarites because they were scholars, but whose con- 
secration to the cause of country and man vindicated 
the words of John Milton, " A complete and generous 
education is that which fits a man to perform justly, 

15 skillfully, and magnanimously all the offices, both 
private and public, of peace and war"? That is the 
praise of the American scholar. The glory of this 
day and of this Commencement season is that the 
pioneers, the courageous and independent leaders in 

20 public affairs, the great apostles of religious and civil 
liberty, have been, in large part, educated men, sus- 
tained by the sympathy of the educated class. 

But this is not true of the past alone. As educated 
America was the constructive power, so it is still the 

25 true conservative force of the Republic. It is decried 
as priggish and theoretical. But so Richard Henry 
Lee condemned the Constitution as the work of 
visionaries. They are always called visionaries 
who hold that morality is stronger than a majority. 

30 Goldwin Smith says that Cobden felt that at heart 
England was a gentleman and not a bully. So 
thinks the educated American of his own country. 
He has faith enough in the people to appeal to 



THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEN. 273 

them against themselves, for he knows that the car- 
dinal condition of popular government is the ability 
of the people to see and correct their own errors. In 
a Republic, as the majority must control action, the 
majority tends constantly to usurp control of opinion. 5 
Its decree is accepted as the standard of right and 
wrong. To differ is grotesque and eccentric. To pro- 
test is preposterous. To defy is incendiary and revo- 
lutionary. But just here interposes educated intelli- 
gence, and asserts the worth of self-reliance and the 10 
power of the individual. Gathering the wisdom of 
ages as into a sheaf of sunbeams, it shows that prog- 
ress springs from the minority, and that if it will but 
stand fast time will give it victory. 

It is the educated voice of the country which teaches 15 
patience in politics and strengthens the conscience of 
the individual citizen by showing that servility to a 
majority is as degrading as servility to a Sultan or 
a Grand Lama. Emerson said that of all his friends 
he honored none more than a quiet old Quaker lady 20 
who, if she said yea and the whole world said nay, 
still said yea. One of the pleasantest stories of Gar- 
field is that of his speech to his constituents in which 
he quaintly vindicated his own independence. " I 
would do anything to win your regard," he said, " but 25 
there is one man whose good opinion I must have 
above all, and without whose approval I can do 
nothing. That is the man with whom I get up every 
morning and go to bed every night, whose thoughts 
are my thoughts, whose prayers are my prayers; I 30 
cannot buy your confidence at the cost of his respect." 
Never was the scholarly Garfield so truly a man, so 
patriotically an American, and his constituents were 



2 74 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

prouder than ever of their representative who com- 
plimented them by asserting his own manhood. 

It is the same voice which exposes the sophists who 
mislead the mob and pitilessly scourges the dema- 

5 gogues who flatter it. " All men know more than 
any man," haughtily shout the larger and lesser 
Talleyrands. That is a French epigram, replies the 
scholar, but not a general truth. A crowd is not 
wiser than the wisest man in it. For the purposes of 

io the voyage the crew does not know more than the 
master of the ship. The Boston town-meeting was 
not more sagacious than Sam Adams. " Vox populi 
vox Dei," screams the foaming rhetoric of the stump; 
the voice of the people is the voice of God. The 

15 voice of the people in London, says history, declared 
against street-lamps and denounced inoculation as 
wanton wickedness. The voice of the people in Paris 
demanded the head of Charlotte Corday. The voice 
of the people in Jerusalem cried, "Away with Him! 

20 crucify Him! crucify Him! " " God is on the side of 
the strongest battalions," sneers the party swindler 
who buys a majority with money or place. On the 
contrary, answers the cool critic, reading history and 
interpreting its lessons, God was with Leonidas, and 

25 not with Xerxes. He was with the exile John Robin- 
son at Leyden, not with Laud and the hierarchy at 
Westminster, 

Despite Napoleon even battles are not sums in 
arithmetic. Strange that a general, half of whose 

30 success was due to a sentiment, the glory of France, 
which welded his army into a thunderbolt, and still 
burns for us in the fervid song of Beranger, should 
have supposed that it is numbers and not conviction 



THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEN. 275 

and enthusiasm which win the final victory. The ca- 
reer of no man in our time illustrates this truth more 
signally than Garibaldi's. He was the symbol of the 
sentiment which the wise Cavour molded into a na- 
tion, and he will be always canonized more universally 5 
than any other Italian patriot, because no other repre- 
sents so purely and simply to the national imagination 
the Italian ideal of patriotic devotion. His enthusi- 
asm of conviction made no calculation of defeat, be- 
cause while he could be baffled he could not be beaten. 10 
It was a stream flowing from a mountain height, 
which might be delayed or diverted, but knew instinct- 
ively that it must reach the sea. " Italia fard da se." 
Garibaldi was that faith incarnate, and the prophecy is 
fulfilled. Italy, more proud than stricken, bears his 15 
bust to the Capitol, and there the eloquent marble will 
say, while Rome endures, that one man with God, 
with country, with duty and conscience, is at last the 
majority. 

But still further, it is educated citizenship which, 20 
while defining the rightful limitation of the power of 
the majority, is most loyal to its legitimate authority, 
and foremost always in rescuing it from the treachery 
of political peddlers and parasites. The rural states- 
men who founded the Republic saw in vision a homo- 25 
geneous and intelligent community, the peace and 
prosperity and intelligence of the State reflected in the 
virtue and wisdom of the government. But is this 
our actual America or a glimpse of Arcadia? Is this 
the United States or Plato's Republic or Harrington's 30 
Oceana or Sir Thomas More's Utopia? What are the 
political maxims of the hour? In Rome, do as the 
Romans do. Fight fire with fire. Beat the devil with 



276 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

his own weapons. Take men as they are, and don't 
affect superior goodness. Beware of the politics of 
the moon and of Sunday-school statesmanship. This 
is our current political wisdom and the results are 
5 familiar. " This is a nasty State," cries the eager par- 
tisan, " and I hope we have done nasty work enough 
to carry it." " The conduct of the opposition," says 
another, " was infamous. They resorted to every 
kind of base and contemptible means, and, thank God, 

10 we have beaten them at their own game." The ma- 
jority is overthrown by the political machinery in- 
tended to secure its will. The machinery is oiled by 
corruption and grinds the honest majority to powder. 
And it is educated citizenship, the wisdom and energy 

15 of men who are classed as prigs, pedants, and imprac- 
ticables, which is first and most efficient in breaking 
the machinery and releasing the majority. It was this 
which rescued New York from Tweed, and which 
everywhere challenges and demolishes a Tweed 

20 tyranny by whatever name it may be known. 

Every year at the college Commencement the 
American scholar is exhorted to do his duty. But 
every newspaper proves that he is doing it. For he 
is the most practical politician who shows his fellow- 

25 citizens, as the wise old sailor told his shipmates, that 
" God has somehow so fixed the world that a man can 
afford to do about right." Take from the country at 
this moment the educated power, which is contemned 
as romantic and sentimental, and you would take 

30 from the army its general, from the ship its compass, 
from national action its moral mainspring. It is not 
the demagogue and the shouting rabble; it is the 
people heeding the word of the thinker and the lesson 



THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEN. 277 

of experience, which secures the welfare of the Ameri- 
can republic and enlarges human liberty. If Ameri- 
can scholarship is not in place, it is in power. If it 
does not carry the election to-day, it determines the 
policy of to-morrow. Calm, patient, confident, heroic, 5 
in our busy and material life it perpetually vindicates 
the truth that the things which are unseen are eternal. 
So in the cloudless midsummer sky serenely shines the 
moon, while the tumultuous ocean rolls and murmurs 
beneath, the type of illimitable and unbridled power; 10 
but, resistlessly marshaled by celestial laws, all the 
wild waters, heaving from pole to pole, rise and re- 
cede, obedient to the mild queen of heaven. 

Brethren of Brown, we have come hither as our 
fathers came, as our children will come, to renew our 15 
observation of that celestial law; and here, upon the 
old altar of fervid faith and boundless anticipation, let 
us pledge ourselves once more that, as the courage 
and energy of educated men fired the morning gun 
and led the contest of the Revolution, founded and 20 
framed the Union and, purifying it as with fire, have 
maintained the national life to this hour, so, day by 
day, we will do our part to lift America above the 
slough of mercenary politics and the cunning snares 
of trade, steadily forward toward the shining heights 25 
which the hopes of its nativity foretold. 



THE AFTER-DINNER ADDRESS. 
HENRY W. GRADY. 

Born 1850. Died 1889. 

THE NEW SOUTH. 

[The New England Society of New York City, whose dinners are 
famous for their oratory, has had, at one time or another, nearly all 
the great speakers of the North as guests at its board. But no South- 
erner was ever so honored until, to the eighty-first annual banquet held 
on December 22, 1886, Mr. Grady, then known only as the progress 
ive editor of the leading paper of Atlanta, was invited and asked to 
speak on the South. Although not his first visit, the occasion was 
his real introduction to the North. Around him were men distin- 
guished in all walks of life, among them General Sherman, whose 
name no Georgian in many years is likely to forget. Preceding him 
next but one in the order of speaking was Dr. Talmage, who 
described the review of the Federal armies in Washington in 
1865. Afterward Mr. Grady said, "When I found myself on my 
feet, every nerve in my body was strung as tight as a fiddle string, 
and all tingling. I knew then that I had a message for that assem- 
blage, and as soon as I opened my mouth it came rushing out." 
What he said was as successful as it was unpremeditated. The speech 
was reported over the whole country and at once gave him a national 
reputation. It was called by the New York Times the greatest 
speech ever made by a Southerner in New York.] 

" There was a South of slavery and secession — that 
South is dead. There is a South of union and free- 
dom — that South, thank God, is living, breathing, 
growing every hour." These words, delivered from 
5 the immortal lips of Benjamin H. Hill, at Tammany 

278 



THE NEW SOUTH. 279 

Hall, in 1866, true then, and truer now, I shall make 
my text to-night. 

Mr. President and Gentlemen: Let me express to 
you my appreciation of the kindness by which I am 
permitted to address you. I make this abrupt ac- 5 
knowledgment advisedly, for I feel that if, when I 
raised my provincial voice in this ancient and august 
presence, I could find courage for no more than the 
opening sentence, it would be well if, in that sentence, 
I had met in a rough sense my obligation as a guest, 10 
and had perished, so to speak, with courtesy on my 
lips and grace in my heart. 

Permitted, through your kindness, to catch my 
second wind, let me say that I appreciate the signifi- 
cance of being the first Southerner to speak at this 15 
board, which bears the substance, if it surpasses the 
semblance of original New England hospitality, and 
honors a sentiment that in turn honors you, but in 
which my personality is lost and the compliment to 
my people made plain. 20 

I bespeak the utmost stretch of your courtesy to- 
night. I am not troubled about those from whom I 
come. You remember the man whose wife sent him 
to a neighbor with a pitcher of milk, and who, tripping 
on the top step, fell, with such casual interruptions as 25 
the landings afforded, into the basement; and, while 
picking himself up, had the pleasure of hearing his 
wife call out: 

" John, did you break the pitcher? " 

" No, I didn't," said John, " but I be dinged if I 30 
don't." 

So, while those who call to me from behind may in- 
spire me with energy, if not with courage, I ask an 



2 8o HENRY W. GRADY., 

indulgent hearing from you. I beg that you will 
bring your full faith in American fairness and frank- 
ness to judgment upon what I shall say. There was 
an old preacher once who told some boys of the Bible 
5 lesson he was going to read in the morning. The 
boys, finding the place, glued together the connecting 
pages. The next morning he read on the bottom of 
one page: " When Noah was one hundred and twenty 
years old he took unto himself a wife, who was " then 

10 turning the page, " one hundred and forty cubits long, 
forty cubits wide, built of gopher wood, and covered 
with pitch inside and out." He was naturally puzzled 
at this. He read it again, verified it, and then said: 
" My friends, this is the first time I ever met this in 

25 the Bible, but I accept it as an evidence of the asser- 
tion that we are fearfully and wonderfully made." If 
I could get you to hold such faith to-night, I could 
proceed cheerfully to the task I otherwise approach 
with a sense of consecration. 

20 Pardon me one word, Mr. President, spoken for the 
sole purpose of getting into the volumes that go out 
annually freighted with the rich eloquence of your 
speakers — the fact that the Cavalier, as well as the 
Puritan, was on the continent in its early days, and 

25 that he was " up and able to be about." I have read 
your books carefully and I find no mention of that 
fact, which seems to me an important one for preserv- 
ing a sort of historical equilibrium, if for nothing else. 
Let me remind you that the Virginia Cavalier first 

30 challenged France on this continent, that Cavalier 
John Smith gave New England its very name, and 
was so pleased with the job that he has been handing 
his own name around ever since, and that while Miles 



THE NEW SOUTH. 281 

Standish was cutting off men's ears for courting a 
girl without her parents' consent, and forbade men to 
kiss their wives on Sunday, the Cavalier was courting 
everything in sight, and that the Almighty had vouch- 
safed great increase to the Cavalier colonies, the huts 5 
in the wilderness being as full as the nests in the 
woods. 

But having incorporated the Cavalier as a fact in 
your charming little book, I shall let him work out his 
own salvation, as he has always done with engaging 10 
gallantry, and we will hold no controversy as to his 
merits. Why should we? Neither Puritan nor Cava- 
lier long survived as such. The virtues and traditions 
of both happily still live for the inspiration of their 
sons and the saving of the old fashion. Both Puritan 15 
and Cavalier were lost in the storm of the first Revolu- 
tion, and the American citizen, supplanting both, and 
stronger than either, took possession of the republic 
bought by their common blood and fashioned to wis- 
dom, and charged himself with teaching men govern- 20 
ment and establishing the voice of the people as the 
voice of God. 

My friend, Dr. Talmage, has told you that the 
typical American has yet to come. Let me tell you 
that he has already come. Great types, like valuable 25 
plants, are slow to flower and fruit. But from the 
union of these colonist Puritans and Cavaliers, from 
the straightening of their purposes and the crossing of 
their blood, slow perfecting through a century, came 
he who stands as the first typical American, the first 30 
who comprehended within himself all the strength and 
gentleness, all the majesty and grace of this republic, 
Abraham Lincoln. He was the sum of Puritan and 



282 HENRY W. GRADY. 

Cavalier; for in his ardent nature were fused the vir- 
tues of both, and in the depths of his great soul the 
faults of both were lost. He was greater than Puri- 
tan, greater than Cavalier, in that he was American, 
5 and that in his homely form were first gathered the 
vast and thrilling forces of his ideal government 
charging it with such tremendous meaning, and so 
elevating it above human suffering, that martyrdom, 
though infamously aimed, came as a fitting crown to 

10 a life consecrated from the cradle to human liberty. 
Let us, each cherishing the traditions and honoring 
his fathers, build with reverent hands to the type of his 
simple but sublime life, in which all types are honored; 
and in our common glory as Americans there will be 

15 plenty and some to spare for your forefathers and for 
mine. 

In speaking to the toast with which you have hon- 
ored me, I accept the term, " The New South," as in 
no sense disparaging to the old. Dear to me, sir, is 

20 the home of my childhood, and the traditions of my 
people. I would not, if I could, dim the glory they 
won in peace and war, or by word or deed take aught 
from the splendor and grace of their civilization, never 
equaled, and perhaps never to be equaled in its chiv- 

25 alric strength and grace. There is a New South, not 
through protest against the old, but because of new 
conditions, new adjustments, and, if you please, new 
ideas and aspirations. It is to this that I address my- 
self, and to the consideration of which I hasten, lest it 

30 become the Old South before I get to it. Age does 
not endow all things with strength and virtue, nor are 
all new things to be despised. The shoemaker who 
put over his door, " John Smith's shop, founded 1760," 



THE NEW SOUTH. 283 

was more than matched by his young rival across the 
street who hung out this sign: " Bill Jones. Estab- 
lished 1886. No old stock kept in this shop." 

Dr. Talmage has drawn for you, with a master hand, 
the picture of your returning armies. He has told 5 
you how, in the pomp and circumstance of war, they 
came back to you, marching with proud and victorious 
tread, reading their glory in a nation's eyes! Will 
you bear with me while I tell you of another army that 
sought its home at the close of the late war? An 10 
army that marched home in defeat and not in victory 
— in pathos and not in splendor, but in glory that 
equaled yours, and to hearts as loving as ever wel- 
comed heroes home. Let me picture to you the foot- 
sore Confederate soldier, as, buttoning up in his faded 15 
gray jacket the parole which was to bear testimony to 
his children of his fidelity and faith, he turned his face 
southward from Appomattox in April, 1865. Think of 
him as ragged, half-starved, heavy-hearted, enfeebled 
by want and wounds ; having fought to exhaustion, he 20 
surrenders his gun, wrings the hands of his comrades 
in silence, and, lifting his tear-stained and pallid face 
for the last time to the graves that dot the old Virginia 
hills, pulls his gray cap over his brow and begins the 
slow and painful journey. What does he find? — let 25 
me ask you who went to your homes eager to find, in 
the welcome you had justly earned, full payment for 
four years' sacrifice — what does he find when, having 
followed the battle-stained cross against overwhelm- 
ing odds, dreading death not half so much as sur- 30 
render he reaches the home he left so prosperous and 
beautiful? He finds his house in ruins, his farm 
devastated, his slaves free, his stock killed, his barn 



284 HENRY W. GRADY. 

empty, his trade destroyed, his money worthless; his 
social system, feudal in its magnificence, swept away; 
his people without law or legal status; his comrades 
slain, and the burdens of others heavy on his shoul- 
5 ders. Crushed by defeat, his very traditions gone ; 
without money, credit, employment, material training ; 
and besides all this, confronted with the gravest prob- 
lem that ever met human intelligence — the establish- 
ing of a status for the vast body of his liberated slaves, 

10 What does he do — this hero in gray, with a heart of 
gold? Does he sit down in sullenness and despair? 
Not for a day. Surely God, who had stripped him of 
his prosperity, inspired him in his adversity. As ruin 
was never before so overwhelming, never was restora- 

15 tion swifter. The soldier stepped from the trenches 
into the furrow; horses that had charged Federal guns 
marched before the plow, and the fields that ran red 
with human blood in April were green with the har- 
vest in June; women reared in luxury cut up their 

20 dresses and made breeches for their husbands, and, 
with a patience and heroism that fit women always as 
a garment, gave their hands to work. There was little 
bitterness in all this. Cheerfulness and frankness pre- 
vailed. " Bill Arp " struck the keynote when he said: 

25 " Well, I killed as many of them as they did of me, and 
now I am going to work." Or the soldier returning 
home after defeat and roasting some corn on the road- 
side, who made the remark to his comrades : " You 
may leave the South if you want to, but I am going 

30 to Sandersville, kiss my wife and raise a crop, and if 
the Yankees fool with me any more I will whip 'em 
again." I want to say to General Sherman — who is 
considered an able man in our parts, though some 



THE NEW SOUTH. 285 

people think he is kind of careless about fire — that 
from the ashes he left us in 1864 we have raised a 
brave and beautiful city; that somehow or other we 
have caught the sunshine in the bricks and mortar of 
our homes, and have builded therein not one ignoble 5 
prejudice or memory. 

But in all this what have we accomplished? What 
is the sum of our work? We have found out that in 
the general summary the free negro counts more than 
he did as a slave. We have planted the schoolhouse 10 
on the hilltop and made it free to white and black. 
We have sowed towns and cities in the place of theo- 
ries, and put business above politics. We have learned 
that the $400,000,000 annually received from our cot- 
ton crop will make us rich, when the supplies that 15 
make it are home-raised. We have reduced the com- 
mercial rate of interest from twenty-four to four per 
cent., and are floating four per cent, bonds. We have 
learned that one Northern immigrant is worth fifty for- 
eigners, and have smoothed the path to the south- 20 
ward, wiped out the place where Mason and Dixon's 
line used to be, and hung out our latchstring to you 
and yours. 

We have reached the point that marks perfect har- 
mony in every household, when the husband confesses 25 
that the pies which his wife cooks are as good as those 
his mother used to bake; and we admit that the sun 
shines as brightly and the moon as softly as it did 
" before the war." We have established thrift in the 
city and country. We have fallen in love with work. 30 
We have restored comforts to homes from which cul- 
ture and elegance never departed. We have let 
economy take root and spread among us as rank as 



286 HENRY W. GRADY. 

the crab grass which sprung from Sherman's cavalry 
camps, until we are ready to lay odds on the Georgia 
Yankee, as he manufactures relics of the battlefield in 
a one-story shanty and squeezes pure olive oil out of 
5 his cotton seed, against any downeaster that ever 
swapped wooden nutmegs for flannel sausages in the 
valley of Vermont. 

Above all, we know that we have achieved in these 
" piping times of peace," a fuller independence for the 

10 South than that which our fathers sought to win in 
the forum by their eloquence, or compel on the field 
by their swords. 

It is a rare privilege, sir, to have had a part, however 
humble, in this work. Never was nobler duty con- 

i 5 fided to human hands than the uplifting and upbuild- 
ing of the prostrate and bleeding South, misguided, 
perhaps, but beautiful in her suffering, and honest, 
brave, and generous always. In the record of her 
social, industrial, and political restoration we await 

20 with confidence the verdict of the world. 

But what of the negro? Have we solved the prob- 
lem he presents, or progressed in honor and equity to- 
ward the solution? Let the record speak to the point. 
No section shows a more prosperous laboring popula- 

25 tion than the negroes of the South ; none in fuller sym- 
pathy with the employing and land-owning class. He 
shares our school fund, has the fullest protection of 
our laws, and the friendship of our people. Self- 
interest, as well as honor, demands that they should 

30 have this. Our future, our very existence, depends 
upon our working out this problem in full and exact 
justice. We understand that when Lincoln signed the 
Emancipation Proclamation, your victory was assured; 



THE NEW SOUTH. 287 

for he then committed you to the cause of human 
liberty, against which the arms of man cannot prevail ; 
while those of our statesmen who trusted to make 
slavery the corner-stone of the Confederacy doomed 
us to defeat as far as they could, committing us to a 5 
cause that reason could not defend or the sword main- 
tain in the sight of advancing civilization. Had Mr. 
Toombs said, which he did not say, that he would call 
the roll of his slaves at the foot of Bunker Hill, he 
would have been foolish, for he might have known 10 
that whenever slavery became entangled in war it 
must perish, and that the chattel in human flesh ended 
forever in New England when your fathers — not to be 
blamed for parting with what did not pay — sold their 
slaves to our fathers, not to be praised for knowing a 15 
paying thing when they saw it. 

The relations of the Southern people with the negro 
are close and cordial. We remember with what 
fidelity for four years he guarded our defenseless 
women and children, whose husbands and fathers 20 
were fighting against his freedom. To his credit be 
it said that whenever he struck a blow for his own 
liberty he fought in open battle, and when at last he 
raised his black and humble hands that the shackles 
might be struck off, those hands were innocent of 25 
wrong against his helpless charges, and worthy to be 
taken in loving grasp by every man who honors 
loyalty and devotion. 

Ruffians have maltreated him, rascals have misled 
him, philanthropists established a bank for him, but 30 
the South with the North protest against injustice to 
this simple and sincere people. To liberty and enfran- 
chisement is as far as the law can carry the negro. 



288 HENRY W. GRADY. 

The rest must be left to conscience and common sense. 
It should be left to those among whom his lot is cast, 
with whom he is indissolubly connected, and whose 
prosperity depends upon their possessing his intelli- 
5 gent sympathy and confidence. Faith has been kept 
with him in spite of calumnious assertions to the con- 
trary by those who assume to speak for us, or by frank 
opponents. Faith will be kept with him in the future, 
if the South holds her reason and integrity. 

10 But have we kept faith with you? In the fullest 
sense, yes. When Lee surrendered — I don't say 
when Johnston surrendered, because I understand he 
still alludes to the time when he met General Sherman 
last as the time when he " determined to abandon any 

15 further prosecution of the struggle " — when Lee sur- 
rendered, I say, and Johnston quit, the South became, 
and has been, loyal to the Union. We fought hard 
enough to know that we were whipped, and in perfect 
frankness accepted as final the arbitrament of the 

20 sword to which we had appealed. The South found 

her jewel in the toad's head of defeat. The shackles 

that had held her in narrow limitations fell forever 

when the shackles of the negro slave were broken. 

Under the old regime the negroes were slaves to the 

25 South, the South was a slave to the system. The old 
plantation, with its simple police regulations and its 
feudal habit, was the only type possible under slavery. 
Thus was gathered in the hands of a splendid and 
chivalric oligarchy the substance that should have 

30 been diffused among the people, as the rich blood, 
under certain artificial conditions, is gathered at the 
heart, filling that with affluent rupture, but leaving the 
body chill and colorless. 



THE NEW SOUTH. 289 

The old South rested everything on slavery and 
agriculture, unconscious that these could neither give 
nor maintain healthy growth. The new South pre- 
sents a perfect Democracy, the oligarchs leading in 
the popular movement — a social system compact and 5 
closely knitted, less splendid on the surface but 
stronger at the core; a hundred farms for every plan- 
tation, fifty homes for every palace, and a diversified 
industry that meets the complex needs of this complex 
age. 10 

The new South is enamored of her new work. Her 
soul is stirred with the breath of a new life. The light 
of a grander day is falling fair on her face. She is 
thrilling with the consciousness of a growing power 
and prosperity. As she stands upright, full-statured 15 
and equal among the people of the earth, breathing 
the keen air and looking out upon the expanding hori- 
zon, she understands that her emancipation came be- 
cause in the inscrutable wisdom of God her honest 
purpose was crossed and her brave armies were beaten. 20 

This is said in no spirit of time-serving or apology. 
The South has nothing for which to apologize. She 
believes that the late struggle between the States was 
war and not rebellion, revolution and not conspiracy, 
and that her convictions were as honest as yours. I 25 
should be unjust to the dauntless spirit of the South 
and to my own convictions if I did not make this plain 
in this presence. The South has nothing to take back. 
In my native town of Athens is a monument that 
crowns its central hills — a plain, white shaft. Deep 30 
cut into its shining side is a name dear to me above 
the names of men, that of a brave and simple man who 
died in a brave and simple faith. Not for all the 



290 HENRY W. GRADY. 

glories of New England — from Plymouth Rock all 
the way — would I exchange the heritage he left me in 
his soldier's death. To the feet of that shaft I shall 
send my children's children to reverence him who 
5 ennobled their name with his heroic blood. But, sir, 
speaking from the shadow of that memory, which I 
honor as I do nothing else on earth, I say that the 
cause in which he suffered and for which he gave his 
life was adjudged by higher and fuller wisdom than 

10 his or mine, and I am glad that the omniscient God 
held the balance of battle in His Almighty Hand, 
and that human slavery was swept forever from 
American soil — the American Union saved from the 
wreck of war. 

15 This message, Mr. President, comes to you from 
consecrated ground. Every foot of the soil about the 
city in which I live is sacred as a battle-ground of the 
republic. Every hill that invests it is hallowed to you 
by the blood of your brothers who died for your vic- 

20 to'ry, and doubly hallowed to us by the blood of those 
who died hopeless, but undaunted, in defeat — sacred 
soil to all of us, rich with memories that make us purer 
and stronger and better, silent but stanch witnesses 
in its red desolation of the matchless valor of Ameri- 

25 can hearts and the deathless glory of American arms — 
speaking an eloquent witness, in its white peace and 
prosperity, to the indissoluble union of American 
States and the imperishable brotherhood of the Ameri- 
can people. 

30 Now what answer has New England to this mes- 
sage? Will she permit the prejudice of war to remain 
in the hearts of the conquerors, when it has died in 
the hearts of the conquered? Will she transmit this 



THE NEW SOUTH. 291 

prejudice to the next generation, that in their hearts, 
which never felt the generous ardor of conflict, it may- 
perpetuate itself? Will she withhold, save in strained 
courtesy, the hand which, straight from his soldier's 
heart, Grant offered to Lee at Appomattox? Will 5 
she make the vision of a restored and happy people, 
which gathered above the couch of your dying cap- 
tain, filling his heart with grace, touching his lips with 
praise and glorifying his path to the grave; will she 
make this vision, on which the last sigh of his expiring 10 
soul breathed a benediction, a cheat and a delusion? 
If she does, the South, never abject in asking for com- 
radeship, must accept with dignity its refusal; but if she 
does not — if she accepts with frankness and sincerity 
this message of good will and friendship, then will the 15 
prophesy of Webster, delivered in this very Society 
forty years ago, amid tremendous applause, be verified 
in its fullest and final sense, when he said: " Standing 
hand to hand and clasping hands, we should remain 
united as we have for sixty years, citizens of the same 20 
country, members of the same government, united all, 
united now, and united forever. There have been 
difficulties, contentions, and controversies, but I tell 
you that in my judgment 

" ' Those opposed eyes, 25 

Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, 
All of one nature, of one substance bred, 
Did lately meet in UY intestine shock, 
Shall now, in mutual, well -beseeming ranks 
March all one way.' " 30 



PULPIT ORATORY. 

HENRY WARD BEECHER. 

Born 1813. Died 1887. 

THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN— A SER- 
MON TO THE SORROWING. 

[This sermon was delivered by Mr. Beecher in Plymouth Church, 
Brooklyn, on Sunday morning, July 1, i860. It is reprinted from 
Sermons by Henry Ward Beecher (New York, 1868), through the 
kindness of the publishers, Messrs. Harper and Brothers.] 

" Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden, and 
in the garden a new sepulcher, wherein was never man yet laid. 
There laid they Jesus." — John xix. 41, 42. 

" And there was Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary, sitting 
over against the sepulcher." — Matt, xxvii. 61. 

How strange a watch was that! but how oftentimes 
repeated since! How strange a combination of cir- 
cumstances, that the cross should have been lifted up 
so near to a garden; that the garden, of all places, 
5 should have held, amid its treasures, such a thing as 
a sepulcher hewn in a rock; that thus a cold grave 
should have been embosomed among flowers, and 
waited, for weeks, and months, and years, the coming 
of its sacred guest! And now, how striking the pic- 
ioture! A few words, and the whole stands open to the 
imagination as to the very sight! The two women, 
side by side, silent, and yet knowing each other's 



THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN. 293 

thoughts, with one grief — with one yearning — with 
one suffering ! Home was forgotten, and nature itself 
was unheeded. The odorous vines, the generous 
blossoms, the world of sights around them, were as if 
they were not. There was the rock, and only that to 5 
them. There was neither daylight, nor summer, nor 
balm, nor perfume. There were no lilies by their feet, 
nor roses around them; for though there were ten 
thousand of them, there was to them only that cold, 
gray sepulchral rock. 10 

See what a life theirs had been. First was their 
own birth. It is strange that one should be grown in 
years before being able to recognize his own birth; 
and so it is. We are not born when the body is — we 
are born afterward — sometimes through silent influ- 15 
ences developing, and oftentimes rudely born by the 
stroke of some overmastering sorrow, or led forth by 
some exceeding joy. So it was with them. They had 
lived years without fulfilling one year. They had 
loved without really loving. They had known with- 20 
out really knowing. Their nature and full power lay 
in them, but as buds lie in branches, and there had 
been no summer to bring them forth. Only when 
Christ came did they find themselves, for men never 
can find themselves of themselves, but always in the 25 
touch of some other and higher one. And only then, 
when these women saw a nature full of strength, full 
of purity, with a heart that went like summer through 
the land, did they know what it was to live. Before, 
they had been as they are who, neither asleep nor 30 
awake, hover between dreams and realities, fully pos- 
sessed by neither. But in the full presence of Christ 
these Marys received their own life. They loved, and 



294 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 

loved worthily and upwardly. And then they knew 
what hidden life the soul possesses. 

Now life blossomed at every step to them. There 
can be no barrenness in full summer. The very sand 
5 will yield something. Rocks will have mosses, and 
every rift will have its wind-flower, and every crevice 
a leaf, while from the fertile soil will be reared a gor- 
geous troop of growths that will carry their life in ten 
thousand forms, but all with praise to God. And so it 

10 is when the soul knows its summer. Love redeems its 
weakness, clothes its barrenness, enriches its poverty, 
and makes its very desert to bud and blossom as the 
rose. And these two Marys had in the presence of 
Christ waked into life. They were not born until he 

15 gave them their life. They followed, therefore, rever- 
ently, all his goings. They waited for him when ab- 
sent as they that wait for the morning. Now there 
was a future to them. Every day increased their con- 
scious treasure. Each day, however, they knew that 

20 they had come to the end and bound of their capacity, 
were full, and could hold no more love, nor joy of lov- 
ing. And yet every next day they smiled at the bar- 
renness of the past, and wondered how that could have 
seemed enough which was so much less than the 

25 present. 

The future glowed brighter and brighter to them. 
Not that they were not mortal, and did not expect 
troubles. But storms, even, are radiant when the sun 
shines upon them, and troubles upon an orb of hope 

30 and love are sunlit clouds, whose gorgeous hues take 
all terror from the bolt and the stroke. 

And so these loving souls, I suppose, followed Christ, 
and found a daily heaven. His serene nature; his 



THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN. 295 

beneficence; his all-encompassing sympathy; his dis- 
interestedness, that gave everything but asked nothing; 
his supernal wisdom; his power over life; his regency 
over nature; his lordship over the winds that flew to his 
hand as a dove to its nest; his mastery over darkness 5 
and death itself, calling back the departed spirit from 
its far-off wandering to life again ; his effluent glory, as 
he hung in mid-air, sustained by white clouds, or as 
he walked the night-sea, carpeted with darkness; but, 
above all, that inspiration, that heavenly purity, that 10 
spiritual life that touched their life, and aroused them 
as never before were they aroused — in short, the pres- 
ence of their God! — all these things, abiding with 
them, traveling from day to day with them, measuring 
out their golden year, gave them their first full knowl- 15 
edge of life as the soul recognizes it! And these were, 
to their fond hope, doubtless, a perpetual gift. 

Nothing seems ever to have awakened the disciples 
to such instant fear, even to chiding and rebuke, as 
the intimation of their Master that he would leave 20 
them! It seemed like a threat of destruction to them. 
They were the more amazed and confounded, there- 
fore, when the treacherous disciple betrayed him, 
when he yielded himself to authority, when injustice 
condemned him, smote him, tortured him, crucified 25 
him. Life was to them, now, no longer a waking 
bliss, but the torment of a wild and hideous dream. A 
horrible insanity it seemed. Yet it was constantly be- 
fore them. They followed him to the city; they fol- 
lowed him out of the city; they followed him till the 30 
procession stopped upon the hill; they saw; they 
heard; they agonized. And when the earthquake 
shook the ground, not another thing did it jar so heed- 



29 6 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 

less and so griefful as those wondering, amazed, and 
disappointed women. They stood in a very darkness, 
and their life was like a grave. All the past was a gar- 
den, and this present hour stood up in the midst of it 
5 like a sepulcher. 

At first grief was too great. They were winter- 
stricken. The very rigor of their sorrow would let 
nothing flow. But as warmth makes even glaciers 
trickle, and opens streams in the ribs of frozen moun- 

10 tains, so the heart knows the full flow and life of its 
grief only when it begins to melt and pass away. 

There, then, sat these watchers. The night came, 
and the night went, " and there was Mary Magdalene, 
and the other Mary, sitting over against the sepul- 

15 cher." What to them was that sepulcher? It was 
the end and sum of life. It was the evidence and fact 
of vanity and sorrow. It was an exposition of their 
infatuation. It proved to them the folly of love and 
the weakness of purity. The noblest experience of 

20 the purest souls had ended in such bitter disappoint- 
ment they now knew that they only are wise who 
can say, " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we 
die." Could such a one be stricken and die? Could 
such a one be gathered into the shapeless rock? 

25 Could such a light go out, and such a soul be over- 
whelmed? What star, then, was there for hope in 
human life? What was safe? What use in love, in 
trust, in honor, in purity, since the Head and Glory of 
them all was not saved by them? 

30 This rebuke of life, of soul, of their heart-love, at 
length drove them away. There was no garden to 
them where such a sepulcher stood. They returned; 
but oh, what a return! There was no more life when 



THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN. 297 

they went away from him that had awakened by love 
true life in them. The night was not half so dark as 
were their souls. In a great affliction there is no light 
either in the stars or in the sun. For when the inner 
light is fed with fragrant oil, there can be no darkness 5 
though the sun should go out; but when, like a sacred 
lamp in the temple, the inward light is quenched, there 
is no light outwardly, though a thousand suns should 
preside in the heavens. To them life was all dark- 
ness. 10 

And yet, while that garden held the sepulcher, and 
the women sat watching it, and saw only darkness and 
desolation, how blind they were! How little, after all, 
did they know ! When first all was a bright certainty, 
how little then did they know! And when, afterward, 15 
all was dark woe, how little yet did they know! The 
darkness and the light were both alike to them, for 
they were ignorant alike of both. How little did they 
expect or suspect! Of all the garden, only the rock 
itself was a true soil, for in it lay the " root of David." 20 
Forth from that unlikely spot should come a flower 
whose blossom would restore Eden to the world; for 
if a garden saw man's fall, forth from the garden came 
his life again. But their eyes were holden that they 
should not see. Their hearts were burdened that they 25 
should not know. They saw only the sepulcher, and 
the stone rolled against the door. They saw, they felt, 
they despaired! 

And yet, against sight, against sense, against hope, 
they lingered. If they departed, they could not abide 30 
away; they must needs come again; for " in the end of 
the Sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day 
of the week, came Mary Magdalene, and the other 



298 • HENRY WARD BEECHER. 

Mary, to see the sepulcher. And behold, there was a 
great earthquake ; for the angel of the Lord descended 
from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from 
the door, and " (like them that triumph) " sat upon it." 
5 But now their sad musings, the utter despair of the 
reason and of the senses, the anxiety, the vigilance of 
the heart — these were the only things that were left to 
them. And yet, as in many cases, their hearts proved 
surer and better guides than their reason or their 

10 thoughts; for as a root scents moisture in a dry place, 
or a plant even in darkness aims always at the light, 
so the heart forever aims at hope and at immortality. 
And it was a woman's heart here that hung as the 
morning star of that bright rising of the Sun of Right- 

15 eousness. In the end of the Sabbath Christ came 
forth, and they were the ones whose upturned faces 
took his first light. 

Such is this brief history; and if we were to carry it 
out in all its analogies, if we were to stretch forth its 

20 light so as to encompass all those who have had a like 
experience with these two women, how wide would be 
its reaches ! how long would be the rehearsal ! 

1. There is a sepulcher in every garden. We are 
all of us in this life seeking for beauty and seeking for 

25 joy, following the blind instincts of our nature, every 
one of which was made to point up to something 
higher than that which the present realizes. We are 
often, almost without aim, without any true guidance, 
seeking to plant this life so that it shall be to us what 

30 a garden is. And we seek out the fairest flowers, and 
will have none but the best fruits. Striving against 
the noxious weed, striving against the stingy soil, 
striving against the inequalities of the season, still 



THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN. 299 

these are our hope. Whatever may be our way of life, 
whatever may be the instrumentalities which we em- 
ploy, that which we mean is Eden. It is this that they 
mean who seek the structures of power, and follow the 
leadings of ambition. This they mean who dig for 5 
golden treasures, not to see the shining of the gold, 
but to use it as a power for fashioning happiness. 
They who build a home and surround themselves with 
all the sweet enjoyments of social life are but planting 
a garden. The scholar has his garden. The states- 10 
man, too, has a fancied Eden with fruit and flower. 
The humble, and those that stand high, are all of them 
seeking to clothe the barren experiences of this world 
with buds that blossom, blossoms that shall bear fruit. 
No man sees the sepulcher among his flowers. There 15 
shall be no lurking corner for the tempter overleaping 
the wall of their happiness, to hover around their fair 
paradise! There shall be nothing there that shall 
represent time, and decay, and wickedness, and sor- 
row! Man's uninstructed idea of happiness in this life 20 
is that of a serene heaven without a cloud — a smooth 
earth without a furrow — a fair sward without a rock. 
It is the hope and expectation of men, the world over 
(and it makes no difference what their civilization is, 
what their culture, or what their teaching), that they 25 
shall plant their garden, and have flowers without 
thorns, summer without a winter, a garden without a 
rock, a rock without a sepulcher! 

It makes very little difference that we see other 
men's delusions. Nay, we stand upon the wall of our 30 
particular experience, as upon the walls of a garden, 
to moralize upon the follies of other men. And when 
they have their hands pierced in plucking their best 



300 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 

fruits, when disappointments come to their plantings, 
we wonder that they should be so blind as to expect 
that this world could have joys without sorrows, or 
sunshine without storms. We carry instructions to 

5 them, and comfort them with the talk that this life is 
short and full of affliction; we speak to them of the 
wreaths to be worn by those who bear sorrows; and 
yet we go as fondly and expectantly to our dream of 
hope as ever. Ah ! it was the cradle of your neighbor 

iothat was left empty, and not your own! That fair 
blossom that was picked was plucked from the next 
household! You turn with even more than your 
wonted infatuation to your own cradle, to rejoice in its 
security. It shall never be desolate! 

15 The experience of every fresh mourner is, " I knew 
that Death was in the world, but I never thought that 
my beloved could die." Everyone that comes to the 
grave says, coming, " I never thought that I should 
bury my heart here." Though from the beginning of 

20 the world it hath been so; though the ocean itself 
would be overflowed if the drops of sorrow unexpected 
that have flowed should be gathered together and 
rolled into its deep places; though the life of man, 
without an exception, has been taken away in the 

25 midst of his expectations, and dashed with sorrow, yet 
no man learns the lesson taught by these facts, and 
every man lays out his paradise afresh, and runs the 
furrow of execution around about it, and marks out its 
alleys and beds, and plants flowers and fruits, and cul- 

30 tures them with a love that sees no change and expects 
no sorrow! 

No man means to have anything in his paradise but 
flowers and fruits. If there is a rock in it, it is only a 



THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN. 3 QI 

rock for shadow and coolness, or a rock for decoration 
and beauty. No man will have a garden with a sepul- 
cher in it. Your garden has no sepulcher in it. If 
you are young and fresh, if you are beginning life, you 
will hear this sermon as a poetic descant, as a tender, 5 
musing homily. In the opening out of your expectant 
wealth and life it is all garden-like, but no sepulcher is 
there! There is no open mouth of consuming bank- 
ruptcies; there are no disappointments, miscalcula- 
tions, and blunders that bring you to the earth; there 10 
is no dismaying of ambition — no thwarting or turning 
back of all-encompassing desires. There is fresh dew 
on the leaf, and rain at the root, and in your mind a 
full expectation that your garden shall blossom as the 
rose. 15 

And thus men live as they have lived, every man 
making his life a garden planted; every man saying, 
"Flowers! flowers! flowers!" and when they come, 
every man saying, " They shall abide ; they shall blos- 
som in an endless summer." And we go round and 20 
round the secret place, the central place — we go round 
and round the point where in every man's experience 
there is a sepulcher — and we heed it not, and will not 
know it. 

2. But, in spite of all this care and painstaking, 25 
there is no garden in the world, let it be as beautiful as 
it may, that has not in the midst of it a sepulcher. 
When we sit over against it with untaught hearts, we 
find out what we would not permit ourselves to know 
in all the earlier stages, though it was there all the 30 
time. Every one of us is traveling right toward the 
grave. I mean not the extreme of life; I mean not 
that common truth that every man is born to die; I 



302 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 

include that; but I mean that every man has a sphere 
of life where there is a sepulcher in which all that 
makes his life valuable to him while he yet lives in 
this world is liable to be buried and hidden from his 
5 sight. There is no man that is sure of anything ex- 
cept of dying and living again. We see on every side 
such revelations, such changes, such surprises, such 
unexpected happenings and events, that it is not mere 
poetical moralizing to say that no man is certain of 

10 anything except death, to be succeeded by life. 

A plow is coming from the far end of a long field, 
and a daisy stands nodding, and full of dew-dimples. 
That furrow is sure to strike the daisy. It casts its 
shadow as gayly, and exhales its gentle breath as 

15 freely, and stands as simple, and radiant, and expect- 
ant as ever; and yet that crushing furrow, which is 
turning and turning others in its course, is drawing 
near, and in a moment it whirls the heedless flower 
with sudden reversal under the sod! 

20 And as is the daisy, with no power of thought, so 
are ten thousand thinking sentient flowers of life, 
blossoming in places of peril and yet thinking that no 
furrow of disaster is running in toward them — that no 
iron plow of trouble is about to overturn them. Some- 

25 times it dimly dawns upon us, when we see other 
men's mischiefs and wrongs, that we are in the same 
category with them, and that perhaps the storms 
which have overtaken them will overtake us, also. 
But it is only for a moment, for we are artful to cover 

30 the ear and not listen to the voice that warns us of our 
danger. 

And so, although every man's garden is planted 
without a sepulcher, yet every man's garden has a 



THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN. 303 

sepulcher, and he stands near it, and oftentimes lays 
his hand upon it, and is utterly ignorant of it. But 
it will open. No man will ever walk through this life 
and reverse the experience, " Man that is born of a 
woman is of few days, and full of trouble." It comes 5 
to us all; not to make us sad, as we shall see by and 
by, but to make us sober; not to make us sorry, but 
to make us wise; not to make us despondent, but by its 
darkness to refresh us, as the night refreshes the day; 
not to impoverish us, but to enrich us, as the plow en- 10 
riches the field — to multiply our joy, as the seed is 
multiplied a hundredfold by planting. Our concep- 
tion of life is not divine, and our thought of garden- 
making is not inspired. Our earthly flowers are 
quickly planted, and they quickly bloom, and then 15 
they are gone; while God would plant those flowers 
which, by transplantation, shall live forever. 

3. When, then, our sorrow comes, when we are in 
the uninstructed surprise of our trouble, when we first 
discover this sepulcher in our garden, we sit, as these 20 
women sat, over against the sepulcher, seeing, in our 
grief, nothing else but that. How strangely stupid is 
grief! How it neither learns nor knows, nor wishes 
to learn nor know! Grief is like the stamping of in- 
visible ink. Great and glorious things are written 25 
with it, but they do not come out till they are brought 
out. It is not until heat has been applied to it, or until 
some chemical substance has been laid upon it, that 
that which was invisible begins to come forth in letter, 
and sentence, and meaning. In the first instance we 30 
see in life only death — we see in change destruction. 
When the sisters sat over against the door of the 
sepulcher, did they see the two thousand years that 



3°4 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 

have passed triumphing away? Did they see any- 
thing but this: " Our Christ is gone "? And yet your 
Christ and my Christ came from their loss; myriad, 
myriad mourning hearts have had resurrection in the 
5 midst of their grief; and yet the sorrowful watchers 
looked at the seed-form of this result and saw nothing. 
What they regarded as the end of life was the very 
preparation for coronation; for Christ was silent that 
he might live again in tenfold power. They saw it 

10 not. They looked on the rock, and it was rock. 
They looked upon the stone door, and it was the stone 
door that estopped all their hope and expectation. 
They mourned, and wept, and went away, and came 
again, drawn by their hearts, to the sepulcher. Still it 

15 was a sepulcher, unprophetic, voiceless, lusterless. 
So with us. Every man sits over against the sepul- 
cher in his garden, in the first instance, and says, " It 
is grief; it is woe; it is immedicable trouble. I see no 
benefit in it. I will take no comfort from it." And 

20 yet, right in our deepest and worst mishaps, often and 
often, our Christ is lying, waiting for resurrection. 
Where our death seems to be, there our Saviour is. 
Where the end of hope is, there is the brightest begin- 
ning of fruition. W T here the darkness is thickest, 

25 there the bright, beaming light that never is to set is 
about to emerge. 

When the whole experience is consummated, then 
we find that a garden is not disfigured by a sepulcher. 
Our joys are made better if there be a sorrow in the 

30 midst of them, and our sorrows are made bright by 
the joys that God had planted around about them. 
The flowers may not be pleasing to us, they may not 
be such as we are fond of plucking, but they are heart- 



THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN. 3°S 

flowers. Love, hope, faith, joy, peace — these are 
flowers which are planted around about every grave 
that is sunk in a Christian heart. For the present it 
is not "joyous, but grievous; nevertheless, afterward 
it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness." 5 

In so great a congregation as this, where there are 
so many thousands that by invisible threads are con- 
nected with this vital teaching-point, sorrow becomes 
almost literature, and grief almost a lore, and we are 
in danger of walking over the road of consolation so 10 
frequently that at last it becomes to us a road hard and 
dusty. We are accustomed to take certain phrases, as 
men take medicinal herbs, and apply them to bruised, 
and wounded, and suffering hearts, until we come to 
have a kind of ritualistic formality. It is good, there- 15 
fore, that every one of us, now and then, should be 
brought back to the reality of the living truth of the 
Gospel by some heart-quake — by some sorrow — by 
some suffering. Flowers mislead us, beguile us, 
enervate us, and make us earthly, even if they assume 20 
the most beautiful forms of loveliness; while troubles 
translate us, develop us, win us from things that are 
too low to be worthy of us, and bring us into the pres- 
ence and under the conscious power of God. 

4. But it is Christ in the sepulcher that is to give us 25 
all our joy and all our hope in the midst of disappoint- 
ments and reversals. Blessed are the dead that die in 
the Lord. Blessed are they that sleep in Jesus. 
Blessed are they that have heard the Bridegroom's 
voice, and have gone out to meet him. Blessed are 30 
they that are able to see in their troubles such a resur- 
rection of Christ that, in the joy they experience from 
the realization of the rising of the Sun of Righteous- 



3©6 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 

ness upon them, they shall quite forget the troubles 
themselves. 

When once the sisters that watched had been per- 
mitted to gaze upon the risen Christ, to clasp his hand, 
5 to worship him, where was the memory of their past 
trouble? What was their thought of the arrest, of the 
shameful trial — which was no trial — of the crucifixion, 
and death, and burial? These were all gone from 
their minds. As when the morning comes we are apt 

I0 to forget the night out of which it came, so when out 
of trouble comes new happiness, when out of affliction 
comes new joy, when out of the crucifixion of the 
lower passions comes purification, we are apt to forget 
the process through which this happiness, this joy, 

I5 this purification came. As there can be no sepulcher 
which can afford consolation that hath not a Christ 
ready to be revealed in it, so there can be no sorrow 
from which we can be well delivered that hath not in 
it a Christ ready to be revealed. 

20 As, then, these Marys, in their very weakness, were 
stronger than when they thought themselves strong, 
as in the days of their sorrow they were nearer joy 
than when they were joyful, as when their expecta- 
tions were cut off they were nearer a glorious realiza- 

25 tion than at any other period of their life, so, when we 
are weakest we may be strongest, when we are most 
cast down we may be nearest the moment of being 
lifted up, when we are most oppressed we are nearest 
deliverance, when we are most cut off we are nearest 

30 being joined forever and ever to him who is life indeed 
and joy indeed. 

My Christian friends, we are very apt, in the regu- 
larity of teaching, to carry forward our faith of Christ 



THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN. 3°7 

to the dying hour, and to think of a Christ that can 
rise upon us in that mortal strife with healing in his 
beams. We are not apt to have Christ with us every- 
day in its vicissitudes and disappointments; we are 
not apt to take Christ into that which belongs to uni- 5 
versal life; we are not apt to take Christ into the 
checks, and frets, and hindrances, and misdirections of 
this world, into our bereavements and misfortunes. 
We are apt to regard Christ as remote from us, and to 
put him forward to the time of our final dismission 10 
from this world. 

He that knows how to die in his passions every day, 
he that knows how to die in his pride from hour to 
hour, he that has Christ in each particular thwarting 
and event of life, he that knows how from the varied 15 
experiences of life to bring forth day by day a Chris- 
tian character, need not fear the grand and final ex- 
perience of earth to which he is coming. There is no 
death to those that know how to die beforehand. 
Those who know how to lay themselves upon Christ, 20 
and take the experiences of every-day life in the faith 
of Christ; those who see the will of God in everything 
that abounds, whether wounding or healing — they 
have nothing left at the end of life except peace, trans- 
lation, and the beginning of immortality. 25 

It is this Saviour that has so sweetened life, if we 
would but know it, who is our Master; and he stands 
in our midst to-day, saying to us, " In this world ye 
shall have tribulation." I am sent to say it to every- 
one in this congregation. Tribulation may not come 30 
to you in the way in which you expect it, or in the way 
in which you see it developed in other persons. It 
may come unheralded. But the voice of the Lord 



308 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 

hath spoken to every one of you, and said, " In the 
world ye shall have tribulation." 

More than that. It pleased God to comfort you be- 
forehand by the assurance that affliction is the token 

5 of paternal love. Nay, God puts it so strongly that 
one almost shrinks: "If ye be without chastisement, 
whereof all are partakers, then are ye bastards, and 
not sons." Christ says, again and again, that if you 
belong to his family you shall have trouble. Is it 

io worth your while, then, to go on making your Eden 
without a sepulcher? Is it worth your while to go on 
making your picture all lights and no shadows? Is 
it worth your while to go on building and rebuilding 
the structure of life without considering that it is a 

15 part of human necessity, and a part of God's plan of 
mercy, that every man should have trouble, not once, 
not twice, but often; as he has his food — as he has his 
very being itself? 

This is one side of Christ's message to every one of 

20 you to-day. How many of you have I seen in your 
troubles! How many of you have I walked with in 
your hour of anguish for sin! I look upon a congre- 
gation with one in every six of whom, it seems to me, 
I have gone down to the baptismal water, or sprinkled, 

25 and walked with through all the stages of their heart- 
distress. For how many of you have I spoken words 
of consolation at funerals? Where are the children, 
where are the brothers and sisters, where are the 
parents, where are the kindred of this church? 

30 Where are our old friends and co-workers? Where 
are those that were in the height of personal expecta- 
tation ten years ago? We have lived ten years to- 
gether, most of us — some of us longer than that — and 



THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN. 3°9 

have we not tracked God at every step, verifying his 
declaration, " Ye shall have tribulation"? And are 
we to look forward to the time to come with less ex- 
pectation of tribulation? Look upon your household. 
Who shall be unclothed next? I desire to take this to 5 
myself. I desire to look at my plans and expectations 
in the light of this inquiry. For I, too, have made a 
garden, and have forgotten to put a sepulcher in it. 
I desire to commence a new survey. Let me go up to 
that central mound covered with flowers, and let me 10 
see if underneath those flowers there is not an opening 
mouth — the darkness of the grave. And if there is, 
then let me rejoice, for I am sure that that is an un- 
watered garden which has no sepulcher. May God 
grant that I shall have no garden in which there is no 15 
sepulcher with a Christ about to emerge from a fruitful 
death. Will you look into your gardens — your money- 
garden, your pleasure garden, your love-garden, your 
household-garden, your taste-garden? All the plants 
of your various gardens — will you look at them, and 20 
see if in the midst of them there is a place for a sepul- 
cher? Will you see that there is a sepulcher in your 
gardens? And will you make that the center of all 
your plantings? 

I am sent by Christ to say to you another thing. 25 
First, "In the world ye shall have tribulation; but," 
next, " be of good cheer; I have overcome the world," 
and ye shall overcome it also. " Because I live, ye 
shall live also." That is the end of trouble. Now sor- 
row is crowned with hope. Now the gate is thrown 30 
open! Now the angel sits upon the stone! Now the 
emergent Christ walks forth, light and glorious as the 
sun in the heavens ! Now the lost is found ! Now all 



3 1 © HENRY WARD BEECH ER. 

the stars hang like gems, and jewels, and treasures for 
us! Now, since Christ says that out of all these experi- 
ences he shall bring forth life, even as his own life was 
brought forth out of the tomb, what is there that we 
5 need trouble ourselves about? 

Christian brethren, do you know how to be glad, 
and to make others glad, in the midst of your trouble? 
Do you know how to stand in the midst of your losses 
and disappointments so that men shall say, " After all, 

io it is not troublesome to be afflicted "? Do you know 
how to be peaceful in the midst of deepest bereave- 
ments? Do you know how to seek Christ in the very 
tomb? Do you know how to employ the tomb as the 
astronomer employs the lens, which in the darkness 

15 reveals to him vast depths and infinite stretches of 
created things in the space beyond? Do you know 
how to look through the grave and see what there is 
on the other side — the glory and power of God? 
Blessed are they to whom Christ hath revealed the 

20 meaning of the sepulcher. 

And when, after a very little time, we go away from 
our sorrows and our sepulchral burying-places, we 
shall, as did these faithful watching women, meet our 
Christ victorious from the grave, glorified, exalted. 

25 And whatever we lose here that is worth weeping for 
we shall find again. When man reaps there is some- 
thing for the gleaner's hands behind him. He shakes 
out many kernels for the soil, and drops many heads 
of wheat for the gleaner. But when God reaps he loses 

30 not one kernel, and drops not one single heavy head 
of grain. And whatever that is good has been taken 
from you — every straw, and every kernel, and every 
head, shall be garnered. Only that will remain in 



THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN. 3 11 

the earth which you would fain give to the earth, while 
that which the heart claims, and must have if it live, 
awaits you. Great are the joys that are before you, 
but they do not lie level with the earth. Great are the 
joys to which we are to come; we are traveling up to 5 
them. 

Let us, then, to-day, renew, in the presence of our 
Master, our consecration to Christ, the Deliverer.* 
Let us accept him once more as our life. Let our life 
be hid in him. And when he shall appear, then we 10 
also, at last, shall be made known to each other. We 
shall see him as he is, and we shall be like him. 

After the blessing is pronounced, we will remain, 
Christian brethren, a short time at this joyful hour, 
not to mourn over a broken Christ symbolized — for 15 
we know better — but to rejoice that the broken Saviour 
is now the ever-living Prince, risen and clothed with 
immortal victory. We meet around these memorials. 
We take them for a starting point. But we may go 
beyond them, and rest and rejoice in the bosom of 20 
ever-living love. 

If there be present any that mourn for their sins, 
that despair of help in themselves, that feel their need 
of Christ, that yearn toward him, that long for him, 
and that are willing to accept him, them also I bid 25 
come home. This is your Father's house, and this is 
your Father's table. If you will be children of Christ, 
come and partake with us of these emblems. May 
God grant that every one of us who sit together in 
these earthly places in Christ Jesus may have the un- 30 
speakable joy, by and by, of sitting together in heav- 
enly places. 

* The Lord's Supper was administered at the close of the sermon. 



NOTES. 



CARL SCHURZ. 

POLITICAL DISABILITIES. 

I. Biographical Note. — Carl Schurz was born at Liblar, near 
Cologne, Prussia, March 2, 1829. He was educated at the 
gymnasium of Cologne, and at the University of Bonn, 
which he entered in 1846. Concerned in the political 
troubles of 1848, and compelled to leave Bonn, he joined 
the revolutionary army. He took part in the defense of 
Rastadt, and on the surrender of that fortress fled to 
Switzerland. The next two years he spent in Paris and 
London, acting as correspondent to several German news- 
papers and in teaching. In 1852 he came to the United 
States. He resided in Philadelphia for three years, and then 
settled in Watertown, Wis. As a member of the Republican 
party, he took an active interest in the campaigns of 1856 
and i860, and delivered speeches in both English and Ger- 
man. When Mr. Lincoln became President, Mr. Schurz was 
sent as Minister to Spain, but he resigned in December, 1861, 
to enter the army. In 1862 he was made a brigadier general 
of volunteers, and the following year, a major general in the 
same service. In 1869 he was elected to represent the State 
of Missouri in the Senate, serving until 1875. While in the 
Senate he opposed many of the principal measures of the 
Grant administration. He was prominent in the " Liberal 
Republican " movement, and in 1872 presided over the con- 
vention which nominated Horace Greeley for President. In 



314 NOTES. 

1876, however, he supported the candidacy of General Hayes, 
and, in 1877, he entered the latter's cabinet as Secretary of 
the Interior, holding office until 1881. For the next three 
years, until 1884, he was editor of the New York Even- 
ing Post. Since then he has been engaged in literary work 
in New York City. In 1892, on the death of George William 
Curtis, he was made president of the National Civil Service 
Reform Association. A volume of Mr. Schurz's most impor- 
tant speeches on slavery and the Rebellion was published in 
1865. Since this date his principal public addresses have 
been those in the Senate, — on the annexation of San Do- 
mingo, the sales of arms, the currency, and general amnesty; 
— his eulogy on Charles Sumner; his speeches in the cam- 
paign of 1884, when he supported Mr. Cleveland; and his 
addresses on civil service reform. 

II. The Structure of the Oration. — In dealing with the ora- 
tions in this volume, students are strongly recommended to 
make briefs or outlines which will indicate at a glance the 
way in which the ideas and arguments are marshaled under 
the different divisions. Such an outline in the case of the 
first oration might be as follows: 



I. Introduction. 

A. As reasons no longer exist for taking no part in the de- 
bate, and there being no inducement left to waive criti- 
cism, the whole question may be considered open. 



II. Narration. 

A. I beg to say that I am in favor of general amnesty, and 

that I shall heartily support an amendment to the pres- 
ent bill striking out the exceptions to the relief. 

B. In discussing this question we must not forget that we 

have to deal not only with the past but with the present 
and future interests of the republic. 



POLITICAL DISABILITIES. 3 r 5 

III. Partition. 

A. It may be assumed that those who favor a continuance of 

disabilities do so because of some higher object of pub- 
lic usefulness they have in view. 

B. All, however, are agreed that the supreme end to be at- 

tained is to secure to all the States good and honest 
government and to revive in all citizens love for the 
Union. 

C. But all must also agree that this end has not yet been ac- 

complished. 

1. Some of the Southern States are in a condition 

bordering upon anarchy. 

2. The objection that civil wars are likely to produce 

such results is scarcely valid. 
a. Had the right policy been followed, the re- 
cuperative power of the country would have 
very materially alleviated the consequences 
of the war. 

D. The question is, therefore: 

i. Was the policy we followed wise? 

2.* Can the continuance of the system of disabilities 
do any good to make up for the harm it has 
already wrought and is still working? 

3. Is there any practical advantage to be gained from 

the provisions of the present bill? 

IV. Discussion. 

A. The policy we followed was not wise. 

1. The enfranchisement of the colored people having 
been gained, the problem was to secure good 
government for all. 
a. Nothing would have been more calculated to 

* For the purpose of indicating the precise structure of the argument the three 
issues are brought together here at the end of the narration. In the speech itself, 
however, for excellent reasons, the issues are not so stated. 



316 NOTES. 

remove discontent and to reconcile men to 
the new order, than the wise and honest 
administration of public affairs. 
I.' But the measures taken were those least likely to 
attain good government. 

a. When public business demanded, more than 

ordinarily, the co-operation of all the intel- 
ligence and political experience that could 
be mustered in the South, a large propor- 
tion of that intelligence and experience was 
excluded from public affairs by political 
disabilities. 

b. The controlling power was put into the hands 

of negroes, who were ignorant and inex- 
perienced and who could not have been 
expected to manage the business of public 
administration with the wisdom and skill 
required. 

c. The traditional prejudices of the Southern 

people were affronted. 

x. White men were asked to recognize 
negroes in a political status not 
only as high but higher than their 
own. 

d. The objection that the rebels deserved all 

this in the way of punishment is not the 
question. 

x. The question is, what was the best 
way to secure the rights of the col- 
ored people and restore the har- 
mony of society? 
y. The disabilities inflamed the preju- 
dices which stood in the way of the 
acceptance of the new order of 
things and increased the dangers 
of the emancipated class. 
B. The continuance of the system of disabilities can do no 
good to make up for the harm it has already wrought 
and is still working. 



POLITICAL DISABILITIES. 3 1 7 

i. The disabilities protect no one in his life, his liberty, 
or his property. • 

2. We hear that the disabilities should not be removed 

because of the Ku Klux outrages; but this argu- 
ment is not tenable. 

a. These outrages happened while the disabili- 

ties were in existence. 

b. They serve to keep this spirit alive. 

3. The disabilities tended to put the damper of dis- 

couragement on any good intentions the South- 
ern whites might have had. 

4. It is said that the system of disabilities should be 

maintained to show disapprobation of the Rebel- 
lion; but this is absurd. 
a. This disapprobation has been expressed in a 
much more forcible way by conquering the 
armies of the rebels, and by sweeping the 
system of slavery out of existence. 

5. It is also said that the law must be vindicated. 

a. But since no attempt has been made to punish 
the rebels for treason, the idea of vindicat- 
ing the law by the exclusion of a certain 
number of persons from eligibility to office 
is ridiculous. 

6. It is also said that rebels should not be pardoned 

when other criminals are punished; but this is 
not in point 
a. History shows that political crimes have 
never been regarded in the same light as 
moral delinquencies. 

x. We see this from the examples of 
Germany and Austria. 
C. The provisions of the present bill are unwise. 
1. The exclusions are unwise. 

a. The exclusion of the men who left Congress 
to join the Rebellion is unwise. 

x. The exclusion of those of this class 
who were not original conspirators 
is unwise. 



3 l8 NOTES. 



a. These men were in no way 
more responsible for the Re- 
bellion than other prominent 
men in the South who do not 
fall under the exception. 
j8. Granting it wise to readmit to 
the management of public af- 
fairs all the intelligence and 
political experience the South 
has, we should not exclude as 
a class men who may be pre- 
sumed to possess these quali- 
ties in a higher degree than 
the rest. 
7. There is no more reason for 
excluding these men than for- 
eign ministers who left their 
posts, or judges. 
y. To exclude the original conspirators 
is unwise. 

a. The exclusion gives these men 
an importance which they 
otherwise would not possess. 
b. The exclusion of officers of the Army and 
Navy who joined the Rebellion is unwise. 
x. The argument that the turning 
against the Government of these 
men who had been educated at 
public expense, was an act of par- 
ticular ingratitude and justifies the 
exclusion, is not a strong one. 
o. One of these men has already 
been given an important pub- 
lic office. 
/8. The conduct since the war of 
no other class of men has 
been so unexceptional as that 
of members of the Army and 
Navy. 



POLITICAL DISABILITIES. 3*9 

c. The exclusion of members of State conven- 
tions who voted for ordinances of seces- 
sion is unwise. 

x. These men were drawn into the 
whirl of rebellion just like the rest 
of the Southern people. 
y. They are men whose co-operation 
would be very valuable because of 
their local influence. 
z. The objection that these men are 
more guilty than the rest is not 
sound. 

a. In many cases they are only 

apparently more guilty. 
/3. Amnesty is designed for those 
who have a certain degree of 
guilt — not for the innocent. 
2. The requirements of the bill in respect to the taking 
of an oath is unwise. 

a. History shows how little political oaths are 

worth in improving the morality of a 
people or in securing the stability of a 
government. 

b. The act should be made as straightforward 

and simple as possible. 

V. Conclusion. 

A. Since political disabilities do not protect anyone in his 

life or rights, and since our object is to produce a con- 
ciliatory effect and to secure good and honest govern- 
ment for the South, and since the teaching of reason 
and experience is that the completest amnesty is the 
best, this bill should be passed and the subject dismissed 
from our minds forever. 

B. The Rebellion has not gone unpunished, as some assert: 

the South has been subdued; thousands of her sons have 
been killed; slavery has been abolished. The loyal 



320 NOTES. 

people of the North, it is true, have also suffered, but 
their suffering has appeared in a blaze of glory. 

C. The measure before us will not only benefit the rebels 

but the whole country, and especially the colored 
people. 

D. The statesmanship of the period is not exhausted by dec- 

lamation about the crime of rebellion. The American 
people are coming to realize that good and honest gov- 
ernment is a much greater essential in restoring loyalty 
than the useless degradation of certain classes of 
people. 

E. Amnesty will not obscure the past. No one wishes that. 

But it will tend to bind together in a common feeling 
the people of this country, and to remedy the evils 
which we now deplore. 

III. Suggestions for the further Study of Deliberative Ora- 
tory. — Some difficulty is found in naming other examples to 
illustrate this division of oratory. Every student will like, of 
course, to turn to the works of Conkling, Blaine, and Gar- 
field, the most prominent of the congressional speakers of 
this epoch; but these men were all skillful debaters, rather 
than great orators. Occasional speeches from less known 
senators and representatives are just as worthy of note. 

When some modern speeches have been examined, the stu- 
dent will do well to turn back and compare with them the 
product of other epochs more celebrated than the present for 
deliBerative orators. He should read at least one of Sum- 
ner's slavery speeches, and should be familiar with such 
efforts as Seward's "State of the Union"; Corwin's "On 
the Mexican War"; Hayne's "Reply to Webster"; Web- 
ster's " Greek Revolution"; Clay's " Emancipation of South 
America"; John Randolph's "Speech on Gregg's Resolu- 
tion"; and Ames' "British Treaty." Then, if he has more 
time, he can read profitably some of the more noted of the 
English parliamentary orators: Fox, Sheridan, Pitt, Bright, 
and Gladstone. 



THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 3 21 

JEREMIAH S. BLACK. 

THE RIGHT TO TRIAL BY JURY. 

I. Biographical Note. — Jeremiah Sullivan Black was born 
in Somerset County, Pa., January 10, 1810. After an educa- 
tion in the public schools of his home he studied law, and 
was admitted to the bar in 1831. Rising rapidly he was ap- 
pointed, in 1842, president-judge of the Court of Common 
Pleas of his judicial district. Nine years later, in 1851, he 
became chief justice of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania, 
and in 1854 was re-elected to the same office, this time for 
fifteen years. When Mr. Buchanan became President, Judge 
Black was appointed his Attorney General. Later, in De- 
cember, i860, he was made Secretary of State, succeeding 
General Cass. On the question of secession, he differed 
radically from Mr. Buchanan, believing that the Union 
should be preserved by force, if necessary, while Buchanan 
held that there was no authority to coerce a State. After he 
retired from the Cabinet he was for a short time reporter of 
the Supreme Court of the United States; but thereafter he 
kept out of public life and devoted himself to the practice of 
the law. In his later years he was connected with many 
important cases, among them the Vanderbilt will contest, 
the McCardle case, the Milliken case and the McGarrahan 
claim. He died at York, Pa., August 19, 1883. Some of his 
writings and speeches have been collected by his son: 
Essays and Speeches of Jeremiah S. Black (New York, 1885) ; 
but the record is by no means complete. The proceedings 
of the Supreme Court on his death will be found of interest; 
also the articles on his life and services as a jurist in the 
Catholic World, vol. xliii. p. 753, and in Green Bag, vol. ii. 
p. 189. 

II. Suggestions for the further Study of Forensic Oratory. — 
The speeches of but few of the leading advocates of the past 
two or three decades have been collected in volumes. Many 



322 NOTES. 

such speeches, too, because they were inadequately reported 
have been lost forever. Of such as remain and are acces- 
sible, these may be named: J. S. Black, "United States vs. 
Blyew et al." '; W. M. Evarts, " Impeachment of President 
Johnson"; Reverdy Johnson, "Military Commissions"; 
M. H. Carpenter, " McCardle Case"; D. D. Field, "Mc- 
Cardle Case"; B. R. Curtis, "Defense of President John- 
son "; D. W. Voorhees, " Trial of John E. Cook "; James T. 
Brady, " Case of the Savannah Privateers." 

In earlier periods are, S. P. Chase's " Case of Vanzandt"; 
W. H. Seward's "Case of William Freeman"; Rufus Choate's 
" Dalton Case"; Daniel Webster's "Trial of Knapp," "De- 
fense of the Kennistons," and " Gerard Will Case "; William 
Pinckney's "Case of the Nereide"; William Wirt's "Trial 
of Aaron Burr." No student of forensic eloquence can, 
however, afford to be ignorant of the speeches of Lord 
Erskine. Those for Captain Baillie, the Dean of St. Asaph, 
John Stockdale, and Thomas Hardy, stand as models for all 
time. 



WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

DANIEL O'CONNELL. 

I. Biographical Note. — Wendell Phillips was born in Bos- 
ton November 29, 181 1. He attended the Boston Latin 
School, was graduated in 1831 from Harvard College, and 
after spending three years at the Harvard Law School was 
admitted to the bar in 1834. Handsome, with charming 
manners, and coming from a wealthy and influential family, 
he gave no promise in college of being the future reformer. 
But in 1835 when he saw William Lloyd Garrison, the 
leader of the abolition movement, dragged by a mob through 
the streets of Boston, he dedicated his life to the anti- 
slavery cause. Two years later, at a meeting held in Fan- 
euil Hall to denounce the murderers of E. P. Lovejoy at 
Alton, 111., he made the first and the most famous of his 



DANIEL 0' CON NELL. 3 2 3 

speeches. Thereafter, the record of these speeches was the 
record of his life. He became the leading advocate on the 
platform of the doctrine of the abolitionists — the immediate 
and unconditional emancipation of the slaves — and spoke and 
lectured constantly for its promulgation. When the War 
had freed the slaves he lent his voice to many causes and 
reforms: the rights of the negroes, the protection of the 
Indians, prohibition, the wrongs of Ireland, the labor move- 
ment. In 1870 he accepted from the Labor Party and from 
the Prohibitionists the nomination for Governor of Massa- 
chusetts. He died February 2, 1884. He was the greatest 
orator of his time; a man of impatient and often mistaken 
judgment, but of great moral conviction, and unswerving in 
courage and in devotion to what he believed to be the right. 
His speeches have been collected in two volumes: Speeches, 
Lectures, and Addresses (Boston, 1891). An excellent and dis- 
criminating biographical sketch by Thomas Wentworth 
Higginson is to be found in the Nation, vol. xxxviii. p. 116. 
Other articles, dealing with his characteristics as an orator, 
are in the Forum, vol. viii. p. 305; the Andover Review, vol. 
i. p. 309; Every Saturday, vol. x. p. 378; and the Fortnightly 
Review, vol. xiv. p. 59. A melodramatic and unjudicial life 
of him has been written for the American Reformers series 
by Carlos Martyn (New York, 1890). 

II. Suggestions for the further Study of the Eulogy. — There 
is no lack in our oratory of great eulogies. Phillips' " Tous- 
saint L'Ouverture," "John Brown," and "Abraham Lin- 
coln"; Curtis' "Charles Sumner," "Wendell Phillips," and 
"Garfield"; Schurz' "Charles Sumner"; Beecher's "Ser- 
mon on Lincoln," and " U. S. Grant"; Depew's "General 
Sherman," and "Chester A. Arthur"; General Devens' 
"General Meade," and "General Grant"; Lamar's "Tribute 
to Sumner"; Blaine's "James A. Garfield"; and John D. 
Long's " Daniel Webster " — are all notable orations. In 
other periods we have, E. D. Baker's " Senator Broderick"; 
Winthrop's " Death of Everett "; Sumner's " Scholar, Jurist, 
Artist, and Philanthropist"; Everett's "Adams and Jeffer- 
son," " Lafayette," " John Quincy Adams," " The Character 



3 2 4 NOTES. 

of Washington," and "Webster "; Choate's "Webster"; John 
Quincy Adams' " Lafayette "; Webster's " Adams and Jeffer- 
son," and "Character of Washington"; Wirt's "Jefferson 
and Adams"; and Dr. Nott's " Hamilton." 



CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

THE INAUGURATION OF WASHINGTON. 

I. Biographical Note. — Chauncey Mitchell Depew was born 
at Peekskill, N. Y., April 23, 1834. After graduating from 
Yale in 1856, he studied law and was admitted to the bar in 
1858. Speaking in support of Lincoln and the Republican 
ticket, he took part in the political campaign of i860. One 
year later he was elected, and the following year re-elected, to 
the State Assembly. In 1863 he was chosen Secretary of 
State of New York, and served two years. Shortly after 
leaving this office he was appointed by President Johnson 
Minister to Japan, but after holding the commission a month 
he resigned to devote himself to the law. In 1866 he became 
counsel for the New York and Harlem Railroad Company; 
and in 1869, at the consolidation of this road with the New 
York Central, he was made attorney for the united organi- 
zation. In 1872 he was a candidate on the Liberal Repub- 
lican ticket for Lieutenant Governor. In 1874 he was made 
a regent of the State University. In 1881, in the contest to 
elect a successor to Mr. Piatt in the United States Senate, 
although he had received two-thirds of the entire vote, on 
the assassination of President Garfield, he withdrew that the 
deadlock might be broken and the State represented. In 
1882, at the reorganization of the New York Central, he was 
made Vice President of the company, and three years later 
he became its President. His speeches, delivered principally 
at public dinners and at the commemorations of important 
events, covering a period of thirty years, have been collected 
in two volumes: Orations and After-Dinner Speeches (New 
York, 1890), and Life, and Later Speeches (New York, 1894). 



THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEN. 3 2 5 

In the last of these, as the title indicates, is a brief biography. 
Other sketches of his life are to be found in the various 
cyclopedias, and in the Chautauquan, vol. xx. p. 694. 

II. Suggestions for the further Study of Commemorative 
Oratory. — Many anniversary orations will be found in the 
two volumes of Mr. Depew's works. Others in this period 
are, Curtis' " Major General John Sedgwick," " Burgoyne's 
Surrender," " The Society of the Army of the Potomac," 
and "Centennial Celebration of Concord Fight"; Evarts' 
"Centennial Oration"; Winthrop's "One Hundredth Anni- 
versary of the Surrender of Lord Cornwallis"; H. A. 
Brown's "Oration at Valley Forge"; Devens' "Battle of 
Bunker Hill"; Frederick Douglass' "Unveiling the Monu- 
ment of Lincoln"; Greenhalge's "Battle of Chickamauga "; 
J. W. Daniel's " Unveiling the Figure of General Lee "; and 
Garfield's " Oration at Arlington." Earlier are Lincoln's 
and Everett's Gettysburg addresses; Seward's " Plymouth 
Oration"; Choate's "Fourth of July Oration"; Everett's 
" First Settlement of New England," " First Battles of the 
Revolutionary War," and "Battle of Bunker Hill"; Pren- 
tiss' " Address before the New England Society of New 
Orleans"; Webster's Bunker Hill orations, "Plymouth 
Oration," and " Laying of the Corner-stone of the addition 
to the Capitol"; and John Quincy Adams' "Oration at 
Plymouth." 



GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 

THE LEADERSHIP OF EDUCATED MEN. 

I. Biographical Note. — George William Curtis was born at 
Providence, R. I., February 24, 1824. After attending school 
at Jamaica Plain, Mass., he moved with his father in 1839 to 
New York and entered a mercantile house. Business prov- 
ing distasteful, in 1842 he became a member of the Brook 
Farm community ,^-at West Roxbury, Mass. After remaining 
there a year and a half he went to Concord, Mass., where he 



326 NOTES. 

divided his time between farming and the society of Emer- 
son, Hawthorne, and other interesting people. In 1846 he 
went abroad. He lived first in Italy and Germany and after- 
ward traveled in Egypt and Syria. In 1850 he returned to 
this country and joined the editorial staff of the New York 
Tribune. From 1852-57 he was associated with Putnam's 
Monthly; in 1853 he began his " Easy Chair " papers in 
Harper's Magazine; and in 1857 he became the leading edi- 
torial writer for Harper's Weekly, then just started. His con- 
nection with public affairs dates from 1856, when, in the 
campaign of that year, he spoke for the Republican Presi- 
dential candidates. In i860 and 1864 he was a delegate to 
the Republican national conventions, and in the latter year 
was an unsuccessful candidate for Congress. In 1869 he de- 
clined the Republican nomination for Secretary of State of 
New York. He also declined in 1876, when offered by Presi- 
dent Hayes, the position of Minister to England. In 1871 
he became identified with the civil service as a member of 
the commission appointed to draw up rules for its regulation. 
Subsequently, in 1881, when the National Civil Service Re- 
form League was founded he became its president. From 1864 
he was a regent, and later was made chancellor of the Uni- 
versity of the State of New York. He died August 31, 1892. 
As a lecturer and lyceum orator he was very popular. Be- 
fore and during the War he spoke on the question of slavery; 
later his addresses were chiefly on the subject of civil service 
reform and on occasional and scholarly topics. His speeches, 
Orations and Addresses (New York, 1894) have been edited in 
three volumes by Charles Eliot Norton. His life by Edward 
Cary in the American Men of Letters series (Boston, 1894) 
is an interesting although not a final book. An address by 
Parke Godwin, originally delivered before the Century 
Association of New York and afterward printed in Mr. God- 
win's Commemorative Addresses (New York, 1895) is the 
tribute of a lifelong friend. 

II. Suggestions for the further Study of Platform Oratory. — 
Many platform orations, little inferior to the one given here, 



THE NEW SOUTH. 3 2 7 

will be found in the first volume of the Addresses of Mr. 
Curtis. Many will also be found in the works of Wendell 
Phillips. Mr. Depew has an oration on the " Political Mis- 
sion of the United States," and one on the " Liberty of the 
Press." In the collection of Grady's speeches is one before 
the literary societies of the University of Virginia. Earlier 
orations of the more formal type are Sumner's " True 
Grandeur of Nations," Choate's " Eloquence of Revolu- 
tionary Periods," and " The Power of a State Developed by 
Mental Culture"; Everett's "Phi Beta Kappa Oration," 
" The Uses of Astronomy," and " Education Favorable to 
Liberty, Morals, and Knowledge"; Webster's "Lecture be- 
fore the Mechanics' Institute"; and Story's "Phi Beta Kappa 
Oration." 

HENRY W. GRADY. 

THE NEW SOUTH. 

I. Biographical Note. — Henry Woodfin Grady was born at 
Athens, Ga., May 24, 1850. His education consisted in a 
course at the University of Georgia, from which he was gradu- 
ated at the age of eighteen, and in a post-graduate course 
of two years at the University of Virginia. On leaving col- 
lege he entered journalism as a profession. He first edited 
the Rome Courier, and, for a time, the Rome Commercial, and 
then moved in 1871 to Atlanta to take the position of Georgia 
correspondent of the New York Herald. In 1871 he also 
bought an interest in the Atlanta Herald, which he ran with 
varying success until it was suspended in 1876. Finally, in 
1880, he became associated with the paper with which his 
name is most identified, the Atlanta Constitution, and with 
this, as editor and part owner, he remained until his death. 
As an orator Mr. Grady became generally known first in 
1886 from the speech printed in this volume. This was fol- 
lowed in 1887 by his prohibition speech at Atlanta; in 1888 
by his speech at Dallas, Tex.; and in 1889 by his oration 
before the literary societies of the University of Virginia, 



328 NOTES. 

and by his two addresses in Boston. He died December 23, 
1889. More perhaps than any other man, he stood for the 
obliteration of sectional prejudices resulting from the War. 
Two collections of his works have been published. The 
better is edited by Joel Chandler Harris: Henry W. Grady, 
His Life, Writings, and Speeches (New York, 1890); the other 
is the Life and Labors of Henry W . Grady (Atlanta, 1890). In 
both of these volumes some account of Mr. Grady's oratory 
is given. An appreciative tribute from his associate on the 
Constitution, Clark Howell, will be found in the Chautauquan, 
vol. xxi. p. 703; and there is also an article on him in the 
Arena, vol. ii. p. 9. 

II. Suggestions for the further Study of After-Dinner Ora- 
tory. — Mr. Grady made two other after-dinner speeches of 
high order: those which he delivered in Boston in 1889. 
George William Curtis spoke often at dinners, but not many 
such speeches have been included in his works. In the 
volumes of Mr. Depew are responses to toasts of many 
kinds. Several thoughtful addresses have been published 
by Senator Lodge: Speeches (Boston, 1892); and other good 
examples are to be found in ex-Governor Long's After- 
Dinner and Other Speeches (Boston, 1895). 



HENRY WARD BEECHER. 

THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN. 

I. Biographical Note. — Henry Ward Beecher was born at 
Litchfield, Conn., June 24, 1813. He was graduated from 
Amherst College in 1834 and then studied theology at Lane 
Seminary, Cincinnati, O. His first church was at Lawrence- 
burg, Ind. Thence he went to Indianapolis, where he re- 
mained eight years. In 1847 he was called to take charge 
of Plymouth Church in Brooklyn, and as the pastor of this 
church served until his death. Early in his career he became 
famous as a pulpit and platform speaker. He was a leading 



THE SEPULCHER IN THE GARDEN. 329 

spirit in the abolition movement. In 1863 he went to Eng- 
land and delivered the five addresses, which, as examples of 
popular oratory and persuasion, before hostile audiences, 
are unequaled. For many years, although he preached 
regularly in his church, he was in great demand as a lecturer, 
and filled countless engagements over the whole country. 
He was one of the founders of the New York In- 
dependent, and later of the Christian Union. In 1886 
he made a lecture tour in England. The following 
year, March 8, 1887, he died. Mr. Beecher's sermons 
were printed regularly after 1859, and many of them 
have been collected in volumes. A collection has also been 
made, under the title of Patriotic Addresses (New York, 
1887), of his principal political speeches. A number of 
biographies of him have been written. Suggestive articles 
on his power as a preacher will be found in the Contemporary 
Review, vol. xix. p. 317, and in the New Englander, vol. xxix. 
p. 421 ; and there is an interesting account of his English ex- 
periences in 1863, in the Century, vol. xv. p. 240. 

II. Suggestions for the further Study of Pulpit Oratory. — The 
name in recent years that deserves most to be compared 
with Mr. Beecher's is Phillips Brooks. The methods of the 
two men, were, however, very different, and Brooks' ser- 
mons (which have been collected in half a dozen volumes) 
lose even more than Beecher's in the reading. Other men 
who have gained reputations as pulpit speakers in this period, 
and who have printed sermons, are, R. H. Storrs, David 
Swing, Lyman Abbott, Morgan Dix, and T. De Witt Tal- 
mage. Further examples of pulpit eloquence, both early and 
modern, may be found in Fish's Pulpit Eloquence of the Nine- 
teenth Century (New York, 1874). 



BIBLIOGRAPHY OF ORATORS AND ORATORY 



TREATISES. 

Adams, John Quincy. Lectures on Rhetoric and Oratory. 
2 vols. Cambridge, 1810. 

Aristotle. Rhetoric. Translated by J. E. C. Welldon. 
London, 1886. 

Baker, G. P. The Principles of Argumentation. Boston, 
1895. 

Bautain, Louis. The Art of Extempore Speaking. New 
York, 1859. 

Beeton's Complete Orator. London (1881 ?). 

Blair, Hugh. Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres. 
Many editions. 

Broadus, J. A. The Preparation and Delivery of Sermons. 
New York, 1891. 

Brookings, W. du B. and Ringwalt, R. C. Briefs for 
Debate. With an Introduction on the ' ' Art of De- 
bate." New York, 1896. 

Brougham, Henry, Lord. Rhetorical and Literary Dis- 
sertations. (Works, vol. vii.) London, 1856. 

Bryce, James. The American Commonwealth. 2 vols. 
New York, 1895. vol. ii. chap. civ. 

Campbell, George. The Philosophy of Rhetoric. Many 
editions. 

Carlyle, Thomas. "Stump Orator" in Latter- Day Pam- 
phlets. I. No. V. 

Channing, Edward T. Lectures on Rhetoric and Oratory. 
Boston, 1856. 

331 



33 2 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Cicero. On Oratory and Orators. Translated or edited 

by J. S. Watson. New York, 1871. 
Coppens, Charles. The Art of Oratorical Composition. 

New York, 1888. 
Curry, S. S. The Province of Expression. Boston, 1891. 
Donovan, J. W. Speeches and Speech-Making. Detroit, 

1895. 
Emerson, R. W. " Eloquence," in Society and Solitude, 

and in Letters and Social Aims. Many editions. 
Fenelon, Francois. Dialogues concerning Eloquence. Trans- 
lated by William Stevenson. Boston, 18 10. 
Foster, J. Edgar. The Art of Speaking. Ipswich, 

(1896?). 
Genung, John F. The Practical Elements of Rhetoric. 

Boston, 1886. Chaps, vii. viii. 
Higginson, T. W. Hints on Writing and Speech-Making. 

Boston, 1887. 
Hill, A. S. The Principles of Rhetoric. New York, 1895. 

pp. 327-400. 
Holyoake, G. J. Public Speaking and Debate. London, 

(1895). 
Lawson, John. Lectures Concerning Oratory. Dublin, 

I759- 
Longinus. On the Sublime. Translated by H. L. Havell. 

London, 1890. 
Maury, J. S. The Principles of Eloquence. Translated by 

J. N. Lake. New York, 1807. 
"The Peculiarities of Popular Oratory" in Afternoon 

Lectures on Literature and Art. Dublin, 1869. pp. 

183-211. 
Phelps, Austin. The Theory of Preaching. New York, 

1881. 
Pittenger, William. How to Become a Public Speaker. 

Philadelphia, 1887. 

. Oratory Sacred and Secular. New York, 1868. 

The Pulpit Orator. Boston, 1804. 

Quintilian. Institutes of Oratory. Translated by J. S. 

Watson. 2 vols. London, 1856. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 333 

-Robinson, W. C. Forensic Oratory. Boston, 1893. 
Sears, Lorenzo. The Occasional Address. New York, 

1897. 
Sheppard, Nathan. Before an Audience. New York, 1886. 
Smith, Wilder. Extempore Preaching. Hartford, 1884. 
Tacitus. A Dialogue Co?iceming Oratory. In Works. 

2 vols. London, 1854. **■ 390-452. 
Theremin, Francis. Eloquence a Virtue. Andover, 1854. 
Ward, John. A System of Oratory. 2 vols. London, 1759. 
Whately, Richard. Elements of Rhetoric. Many editions. 

HISTORIES. 

Butler, Charles. Reminiscences. 2 vols. London, 1822. 

i. 128-214. 
Cochrane, Robert. Great Orators, Statesmen, and Di- 
vines. Edinburgh, 1881. 
Cormenin, L. M. The Orators of France. New York, 

1847. 
Hardwicke, Henry. History of Oratory and Orators. 

New York, 1896. 
Harsha, David A. The Most Eminent Orators and 

Statesmen of Ancient and Modern Times, New 

York, 1854. 
Jebb, R. C. The Attic Orators, 2 vols. London, 1876. 
Jephson, Henry. The Platform : Its Rise and Progress. 2 

vols. London, 1892. 
Magoon, E. L. Orators of the Revolution. Cincinnati, 

1847. 
Mathews, William. Oratory and Orators. Chicago, 1879. 
Nicoll, H. J. Great Orators. Burke, Fox, Sheridan, Pitt. 

Edinburgh, 1880. 
Parker, E. G. The Golden Age of American Oratory. 

Boston, 1857. 
Roberts, W. C. The Leading Orators of Twenty-five 

Campaigns. New York, 1884. 
Scott, H. W. Distinguished American Lawyers. New 

York, 1891. 
Sears, Lorenzo. The History of Oratory. Chicago, 1896. 



334 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 



COLLECTIONS OF SPEECHES. 

Adams, C. K. Representative British Orations. 3 vols. 

New York, 1884. 
American Oratory. Philadelphia, 1849. 
Baker, G. P. Specime?is of Argumentation. Modern. 

New York, 1893. 
Bradley, C. B. Orations and Arguments. Boston, 1895. 
Carpenter, S. C. Select American Speeches. Philadelphia, 

1815. 
Clarke, William. Political Orations. London (1890). 
Cochrane, Robert. The Treasury of British Eloquence. 

London, 1877. 
Fish, H. C. Pulpit Eloquence of the Nineteenth Century. 

New York, 1874. 
Goodrich, Chauncey A. Select British Eloquence. New 

York, 1852. 
Hazlitt, William. The Eloquence of the British Senate. 2 

vols. Brooklyn, 18 10. 
Johnson, Alexander. American Orations. Re-edited by J. 

A. Woodburn. 4 vols. New York, 1896. 
Memorial Addresses and After-Dinner Speeches in The 

Tribune Monthly. Vol. iv. No. 4. (April, 1892). 
Moore, Frank. American Eloquence. 2 vols. New York, 

1857. 
The Household Book of Irish Eloquence. New York, (1870.) 
Saunders, Frederick. Our National Centennial Jubilee. 

New York, 1877. 
Snyder, William L. Great Speeches by Great Lawyers. 

New York, 1881. 
Stephens, H. Morse. Orators of the French Revolution. 

2 vols. Oxford, 1892. 
Wagner, Leopold. Modem Political Orations. New York, 

1896. 
Whitman, G. M. American Orators and Oratory. Chicago, 

1884. 
Williston, E. B. Eloquence of the United States. 5 vols. 

Middletown, 1827. 



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